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THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY; 



OR, THE 



LOG-HOUSE IN THE WILDERNESS. 



A TRUE STORY. 




BY MRS. RACHEL WATSON. 




NEW YORK 
PUBLISHED BY THI 



1871. 



\P 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by .-Rachel Watson, in the 
office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



CONTENTS. 



■~wwv 



Page 
CHAPTER I. My Maeeiage and Joueney Home 1 



CHAPTER H. In the Wildeeness 4 

CHAPTER m. Flowees Speing Up— Death Entees 12 

CHAPTER IV. Sugae Making — Dangees — Chased by a Beae 17 

CHAPTER V. Ottb School Ma'am 22 

CHAPTER VI. An Enemy at the Dooe 27 

CHAPTER VH. The Indian Raid and the Rescue 33 

CHAPTER VHI. The Enemy Strikes and is Stetjok 40 

CHAPTER IX. Haeey in Dueance 47 

CHAPTER X. A Feiend in Need 53 

CHAPTER XL Comfoet in Peison 57 

CHAPTER Xn. Vengeance Unsatisfied 63 

CHAPTER XIH. A Ghost Pleads foe Foegiveness 73 

CHAPTER XTV. Haeey's Teial and Acquittal 83 

CHAPTER XV. Adedtt— Anchoe in Geoegetown 88 



PREFACE. 



This is the narrative of the adventures, trials, hardships and 
misfortunes of a family, beside which, for thrillingness of detail, 
many a sensation story will lose its crimson glamor and fade 
into insignificance. It is a truthful record, and fraught with inci- 
dent, in many respects, far stranger than the usual fiction of the 
imaginative romance monger. 

It has been written with no sickly attempt at rhetorical em- 
bellishment, and is simply intended, with the hope that it may 
profit the reader, as a mother's gift to two young daughters. 

An examination cannot fail to give pleasure, and their worthy 
motive cannot but secure liberal patronage. The price is small, 
and within the reach of any who may wish real entertainment 
for an hour. A mother's prayers go out with her daughters. 



LIFE OF MY FAMILY, 



OB THE 



LOQ-HOUSE IN THE WILDERNESS, 



CHAPTER I. 



I was born in the town of Plymouth, in Chenango 
county, state of New York, in which place my parents 
had resided for many years. Plymouth is a small vil- 
lage of not very much outside importance, but like 
every other primitive settlement, is considerable infla- 
ted with its own consequence. It is strictly provincial, 
yet it would be extremely difficult to persuade the good 
people residing there that Plymouth does not desire 
to be quite as well known as Paris, London, Constanti- 
nople, Rome, Pekin, or New York city. 

My father was in very independent circumstances, 
owned a fine farm, several mills, and held a position 
of high respectability in society. He bestowed a great 
deal of care upon the education of his children, and 
indulged them to the extent of his ability. 1 was 



2 THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 

never sent to a boarding school, but I was kept strictly 
at the district school, and my mother was careful that 
I should improve every moment of time when not nec- 
essarily engaged in home duties. Education was not 
then what it is now. 

" When I was about twenty years of age, I first met 
Harry Watson. I was not long in discovering that he 
loved me, for such knowledge comes to a maiden's 
heart long before it is whispered in her ear. He had 
been married and was widowed, and when he asked me 
to fill the place in his heart made vacant by the rude 
hand of death, I found that my heart responded to the 
call, and after a brief courtship, I married him. 

He lived far away, was the owner of a splendid farm 
of six hundred and forty acres, covering a square mile 
of land in Clinton county, near Plattsburg, on one of 
the great lakes. 

In less than a week after our marriage, we started 
for our new home, taking passage on a steamer from 
Whitehall, bound north. 

I was supremely happy, and under such circum- 
stances could not allow myself to think of danger. 
Nothing occurred to mar our happiness, until, when 
about half-way to our destination, we were one night, 
just about midnight, horrified with the cry, "The boat 
is sinking!" 

Such seemed indeed to be the case. In a moment 
the wildest confusion prevailed. There was a tumultu- 
ous rush among the passengers, loud screaming and 
crying, and a furious running to and fro. My first 
thought was of Harry. Among others, I ran to the 
door to get out. To my horror, I found we were all 



THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 3 

locked in. In my fright I ran back to the lounge upon 
which a gentleman was reclining, seemingly in no dread 
of consequences, and throwing my arms around him, I 
besought him to save me. I could not see mj r husband 
and my heart felt as if it would break. He replied 
that it was foolish to be alarmed, that he considered the 
danger very questionable, but that he would exert his 
strength to save me if it became necessary. He begged 
me to be calm and said: "I shall not stir from my 
seat, so long as the stove retains its position ; when 
that is shaken, I shall prepare to swim, and I shall 
bear you along with me. " 

At that time Harry was on deck, and suggesting to 
the captain that there was too much freight on one side 
of the vessel, was busy in assisting to remove it, which 
effected, the water soon ceased to come in, and our 
gallant vessel rode the waves in safety. With this little 
interruption, our passage was a delightful one. Ah l 
those hours of the dear honeymoon when life was un- 
tried, and everything seemed so fair, they come back 
to me like the remembrance of a sweet, sweet dream ; 
and I love to live them over and forget the darker 
days. But sterner duties were ahead of me, beside 
which the steamboat fright seemed trifling. 



THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 



CHAPTER II. 

IN THE WILDERNESS. 

The home to which my husband bore me was away off 
in the wild woods. He had made a little clearing, 
and there he built a rude log edifice, but charming in 
its rustic simplicity, it gave beauty to the wilderness. 
Had not love cheered and solaced me in the absence 
of comforts, and separated from the dear ones of my 
youth, perhaps I should hardly have been contented 
with the home in the forest, sheltered by the oak, the 
pine, and the poplar, through which the wind swept in 
weird music, awakening echoes like the low, full 
chorus of a church organ. It was a sylvan haunt, and 
I should sometimes not have wondered if the friendly 
faces of fauns and satyrs had thrust themselves in at 
my open door. 

But what mattered seeming discomforts. I loved 
Harry, and as Ruth said to Naomi I said to him : 
" Whither thou goest, I will go ; where thou diest will I 
die ; thy people shall be my people, and thy God my 
God." ' 

As we were near our rustic little cottage, as if to 
test my courage, he looked out from the hired carriage 
that bore us from the steamboat landing, and pointing, 
said: "Behold your home!" I made him no reply, 
but softly nestled my hand in his. 

" Can my wife be happy here ?" 



THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. O 

"Happy?" I replied. "You shall see how happy 
your wife iutends to make her husband." 

"But you have had no time to calculate the hard- 
ships and trials of a frontier life. " 

"Love is very weak," I answered, " that stops to 
calculate hardships." 

" You must remember there are long, dreary winter 
days before you, when I must of necessity be many 
times absent. How then will my little wife endure the 
loneliness of her forest home ?" 

"In making that home bright and cheerful for her 
husband's return. The fire shall burn brighter on the 
hearthstone, the supper shall be more plentiful and 
tidy, and the wife's welcome shall be more gushing for 
the cares and toils of a livelihood to which her husband 
shall be subjected." 

He folded me in his arms, and pressed a long, long 
kiss upon my lips. 

"God bless you, my darling! I scarcely feel worthy 
of the precious treasure of your love and confidence," 
said Harry with deep emotion. 

" I am not afraid to trust you, my husband." 

Hand in hand we entered the little log-cottage, 
with silent vows that our fidelity should not be shaken, 
come what might, in the ordering of fate or in the dis- 
pensations of Providence. It was well ; for sadly 
were we tried. 

As the reader already knows, we settled upon a 
square mile of land. It was unoccupied territory, and 
as there could be found no one who laid claim to the 
property, we took up the whole lot. While we lived 
upon it, it was sold for taxes ; but of this procedure we 



b THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY 

were not previously notified, and have now in our pos- 
session a state-deed. The woods abounded with wild 
beasts. We could hear the growling of bears, the 
howling of wolves, the cries of panthers, and the screams 
of wild-cats. We had no very near neighbors, and 
often felt the need of social intercourse ; but this we 
did not permit to mar our contentment. Not very far 
distant from our settlement were the remnants of an 
Indian tribe. They were disposed to be friendly, and 
it gave us great pleasure to dispense to them the hos- 
pitalities of our humble home, when upon their tramps, 
they would call and ask permission to have shelter for 
the night. 

The sight of a human face was refreshing, and we 
hailed their coming, and much enjoyed the sight of their 
romantic camps, with their carpeting of blankets and 
buffalo robes. 

They were principally engaged in gathering spruce 
chewing gum, which is obtained in great quantities 
from the spruce-trees that abound in that region. 

They exhibited evidence of much industry. 

They would usually rise by the break of day, fold 
away their blankets, and be off in the woods. It was 
a profitable business to them, for they found ready sale 
for their gum. 

They frequently brought with them the women 
of the tribe, and I made a close friendship with a 
young girl, who was very pretty, and whose greatest 
delight was to remain with me, while the men were 
out in search of rich spruce-trees. 

She had a most beautiful name, which meant, 
" morning sunbeam," and I have often thought in the 



THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 7 

home wigwam, that indeed, she must have been the 
sunbeam of the morning. 

Poor Enona ! Very soon was the light of her free, 
wild life beclouded, for the young brave, to whom she 
gave her heart, fell under the jealous stroke of a 
rival's tomahawk, and slowly the sunbeam declined, 
and finally set in the darkness of the grave. There 
were sad faces in the tribe that day, and almost more 
than Indian stoicism was required, to prevent the fall- 
ing of the tear, as they folded her away in the striped 
blanket, and left her under the trees, to bend her 
lonely pilgrimage to the spirit land. 

I have witnessed many funerals, but none more sor- 
rowful than that of my dear, young Indian friend, when 
the forest was casting its leaves and the autumn winds 
stole up from their caverfts to wail her requiem. 

I must here pause, for tears are blinding my sight, 
and I feel a choking sensation in my throat. 

How dearly I loved mj dusky friend ! Away off in 
my isolated locality — where friendships were of neces- 
sity — so scarce, the love of this faithful, fond, untutored 
child of the forest, was precious beyond comparison. 

It was a friendship unacquainted with selfishness, 
and untrammelled by the wiles of interest. But I must 
proceed. I dare not stop to contemplate the brief, but 
bright career of poor Enona. 

Shortly after this, I experienced the first severe 
storm in the woods. It was almost after the terrible 
character of a tropical tornado. _ 

One morning Harry left me before daylight, to take 
to market a load of salts. As he was about leaving, he 
said to me, "Rachel, the air is very sultry, and the 



8 THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 

clouds appear threatening ; do you not think it would 
be wise in me to carry along my overcoat and um- 
brella ?" 

"You know the old adage," I replied; "A wise 
man always takes with him his cloak and umbrella ! " 
And I laughed as I handed them to him, for at the mo- 
ment the sunshine burst through the low, dark clouds, 
and gilding the tree-tops with a blinding glory, seemed 
to mock our prudence. " But I am not sure you will 
need them. They may, at last, be of no use, and only 
an extra burden for your patient oxen," I replied. 

"I shall carry them at any rate, for the morning is 
by no means propitious of a fine day." 

He kissed me, and bade me good-by. A feeling of 
dreadful foreboding overcame me, as I watched him 
slowly driving off from our cabin. I returned in doors, 
too sad to weep, and tried as cheerfully as possible to 
busy myself with household duties. I could not shake 
off a presentiment of sorrow.. 

A short time after sunrise, the wind came moaning 
up through the forest, like the growling echo of the 
lion's roar, then mounting in the awful blast of the hur- 
ricane, seemed bent on tearing up the trees by the 
roots. They swayed to and fro like reeds of the 
marsh, and soon came a terrible crashing, and one and 
another haughty lord of a century, that lifted its 
tall head proudly above its fellows, was wrenched, and 
crushed its lowlier brethren in its fall. Black clouds 
rolled up from the horizon to the zenith — thunder 
charged, and down ran the lightning like a demon 
imp, at mocking play with Nature's giant handy- 
work. 



THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 9 

There has always been to me an awful charm in the 
horrors of a tempest, and I stood like one entranced, 
and watched the lightning, as down it ran through tall 
pines, and split them, as with a woodman's wedge. 
The scene beggars description, My humble cabin, I 
knew, was quite too small and low in altitude to attract 
the dart of the fiery visitor, but T momentarily ex- 
pected that I would be crushed beneath the weight of 
the tall trees that were snapping around — the very 
playthings of the storm. Where my husband was, 
I could not tell. Human habitations were much too 
scarce to believe he could have found shelter, and 
I could not allow myself to hope he had reached 
a clearing. 

In this state of anxiety, I remained for five mor- 
tal hours. The winds had ceased their growling — the 
thunder only muttered feebly at low intervals, and the 
clouds were rapidly dispersing. Harry was nowhere 
in sight. The road through the woods was completely 
blockaded by the wreck of the dense forest, and vainly 
I spoke words of courage to my poor aching heart. I 
strained my ears to listen. I could not weep — I could 
only pray; and the simple prayer that my lips framed 
themselves into, was the one struggling petition of the 
publican. 

After awhile I fancied I heard my name shouted. L 
listened. Was I mistaken, or had fancy awakened the 
sound of my husband's voice? or, was echo only playing 
upon my frenzied imagination? I listened again, and 
more eagerly. No ; oh, joy ! I was not mistaken. 

"Rachel!" I heard the name distinctly, and I ran 
in the direction, but could not proceed far, over the 



10 THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 

broken timber that lay across my pathway. " Rachel ! 
Rachel ! " Yes, it was he ; it was the voice of my hus- 
band ! He was alive ! 

11 Rachel, make haste ! Bring me an axe ! Come 
out towards the clearing ! The road is blocked up so 
that I cannot bring in my wagon I" 

You may rest assured I was not long in follow- 
ing the direction of the sound. With much difficulty I 
made my way over the bodies and limbs of trees, 
to where my husband was. 

I had borne up in the presence of the demon of the 
elements, but when I saw Harry, my feelings overcame 
me, and throwing myself in his arms, I wept upon his 
breast like a tired infant. He chided me sweetly, 
kissed off my tears, and laughing in my face, said : 
" Come, darling, come ! This weakness does not 
befit the brave little wife of a pioneer. You are just 
a little childish!" 

A hundred other fond rebukes he heaped upon me — 
those precious scoldings that so endear a husband to a 
wife, and I laughed through my tears. 

He looked a very Robinson Crusoe. Such a time as 
we had clearing the way for the wagon to pass ! He 
cut away the branches, and I dragged them aside. It 
was quite sundown when we reached the cabin. We 
were both tired, and how hungry you can well imagine, 
but our evening meal was sweetly seasoned with 
thankfulness, and before we retired, glad orisons were 
borne up to the Throne of the Eternal on the breath of 
prayer. 

Our faith was increased, our courage was strength- 
ened ; and how much, of all the world, we were to each 



THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 11 

other, could only be known by the good God, who 
had, in his delivering providence, re-cemented our 
hearts. 

The next day brought fresh work to be accomplished. 
The bodies and limbs of trees, that had fallen around 
our cottage, had to be cut away and removed ; the 
fencing around our little garden to be rebuilt ; vines to 
be lifted and retrained, and a whole year passed be- 
fore the devastations of the storm had so disappeared, 
as to make the wilderness blossom with beauty. In the 
lighter portions of his labors, I cheerfully assisted Har- 
ry. Help was exceeding^ scarce, and by no means 
reliable. It was almost impossible to hire, and in the 
course of time, I became quite as much of an adept in 
gardening and open-air employment, as in the domestic 
duties of my simple household. 

There was much romance in our way of life ; and the 
romance. which is dignified by actual experience, is by 
far the most thrilling of all romances. But such 
would hardly please the fashionable. 

2 



12 THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 



CHAPTER III. 

FLOWERS SPRING UP ! DEATH ENTERS. 

New duties and new obligations continued to present 
themselves. This must be the case in every condition 
of life. Neither riches nor poverty is exempt from 
their demands. It matters not how simple may be our 
surroundings, nor how much we may be bolstered up by 
wealth and ease, we cannot expect to avoid cares. 

Mine came in a very precious form. At the end of 
the first year of my married life, I became a mother. 
A new fount of joy had sprung up in my bosom ; a 
fresh light in my cottage, and in the overflowings of 
the first moments of maternity I believed myself the 
happiest woman in existence. 

My husband had always been tender and considerate; 
then his tenderness so far increased that I soon found 
myself almost the object of his idolatry. 

My first-born was a daughter. As she lay in nn^ 
arms and drank in her little life from my bosom, I felt 
that even the angels might envy me. Harry would 
laugh at my weakness, but then his jests were fastened 
with kisses, that induced me often to provoke them. 
Ah ! wedded life has many blessings. 

We were somewhat troubled about a name for our dar- 
ling, for we had a romantic idea that she must have a 
name as rare as she was precious to our hearts. Few 
books were seen in our household. Among them, 






THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 13 

• 

Harry loved best to read the beautiful story of " Alonzo 
and Melissa." After much consultation, and many 
names had been proposed and rejected, we at last de- 
termined that our little daughter should be called 
" Melissa." She was not long our only one. 

The olive-branches speedily multiplied around our 
table. We lived in the wilderness eight years ; at the } 
end of which time, I had been the mother of five chil- 
dren. Melissa was succeeded by Edna and Maude and 
two little sons then came, that would have gladdened 
the soul of any mother. But they were only loaned 
treasures, and full soon were demanded by their owner. 

Ah ! my heart bleeds as I approach this part of .my 
story ! 

Will the reader deem me insane if I relate a pre- 
sentiment of evil ? 

Spiritual manifestations are not according to the 
opinions of orthodoxy, and yet, orthodoxy fails to 
attempt an elucidation of many well-authenticated ex- 
periences, which are merely placed on the score of ex- 
cited imaginations. Perhaps this solution is correct ; 
at any rate mysteries are rarely investigated, or if in- 
vestigated are made to subserve the purposes of scoffers 
at religion. 

One pleasant afternoon, I sat rocking my little boys 
to sleep ; one in the cradle beside me, and the other 
upon my knee. While thus occupied, and humming 
to them a gentle lullab}^ I distinctly heard the voices 
of children, talking and pla} T ing under my window. I 
was surprised and taking my babe, my dear little 
Zacharias in my arms, I walked to the window and 
listened. 



14 THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 

"Gome, come!" said a childish voice. "Come! 
we are waiting for you. We will show you the most 
beautiful flowers and birds, and the finest fruits you 
ever saw." 

I stood and looked out, but could see no one. Could 
it only have been fancy? I then stepped out, and 
walked around the house. I saw no one, but felt a 
gush of air sweep by me, and heard the whir of some- 
thing like the wings of a large bird. I stood some 
moments looking around. All was quiet and I walked 
into the house. Again, I heard the voices under the 
window, and the voices pleading, "Come! oh, come!" 
in a louder tone somewhat. I grew nervous, and feared 
to look, but mustering courage went to the window the 
second time. I could see nothing, as before. Every- 
thing was as quiet and peaceful as one could wish. I 
resumed my seat, thinking it all imagination, and de- 
termined to dismiss it from my thoughts. 

In a few days one of my little boys was taken ill 

//with cholera-morbus. We struggled in vain to arrest 

the disease. It is as rapid as it is frightful. Forever 

sounding in my ears seemed the voice, " Come, come ! 

we are waiting for you!" and he went— went whither 

, I may only follow, when the voice bids me come. In 

[ a few days he died. I thought my heart would break. 
I sent up impious cries for my lost child, and was only 
recalled to my duty to my husband and remaining 
children by the illness of my then only son. He was 
attacked by the same disease of which his little brother 
ad died-. Again the voice sounded under the window. 
I laid my hands over my ears, but it sank rather in 
my heart. " Come, come! we are waiting for you !" 



;, 



THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 15 

I felt as if the hand of Destiny was upon me. My r 
child went ! In agony I sent up one long, loud wail, 
when ray dear little girls clustered around my knees, 
and said : "Ma, we are left! r and I bowed my head, 
and God spoke to my heart. " Thy will, Lord, be 
done ! " I cried, and a voice by my side whispered : 
"Amen \ v 

It was my husband's. The floodgates of my sorrow 
were unloosed. Tears, blessed healing tears, came to my 
relief. I followed my idolized children to their lowl t y 
graves, and 1 left them for the wild violet and the daisy 
to make bright their resting-places, and for the spring 
breezes and the spring birds to sing their lullaby. 

Earth seemed darker then — the shadows deeper — the 
winds wailed more mournfully — the flowers were less 
gay, and my steps were slower, but it was God's will, 
and when regrets arise, I remember Harry's courageous 
whisper, and my stricken soul echoes: "Amen! 
Amen !" 

I think those voices were the effect of the im 
agination, but the Bible teaches us that Samuel, in- 
deed, heard the Lord call him. 

But the reader will say, that was for a special pur- 
pose. And I answer it is always for a special purpose 
that the Lord speaks to us through death ; that is the 
interpretation I would put upon it, and it would be the 
orthodox interpretation. 

In reference to the calling of my dear little boys, 1 
am not superstitious when I say, I do believe the voices 
were from the spirit world. 

How I loved my children ! How I missed them ! 
How deeply I mourned for them ! God alone knows ! 



16 THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 

God alone witnessed the heart agony ! They were 
beautiful — both of theiii — as the first dawn of Spring, 
and as good as they were beautiful. Darling babes, 
they will call, when it is time for their mother to go. 

Natural emotions must have play ; nature's sorrows 
must find vent. It is God's plan when the waters rise 
in the cistern to overflowing ; and if in our weakness 
we lift our souls to grasp after resignation and cry : 
"Thy will, not ours, Lord!"— as surely as the 
publican was heard in his simple aspiration for menrv, 
so sure will our strength be made perfect in our weak- 
ness, and He will not disregard the sacrifice that 
smokes upon the heart's altar. 

I was comforted in my little girls, and I now thank 
my Heavenly Father, that my boys were taken from 
the evil to come. Since their death, ours has been a 
devious pathway. Often in darkness we looked only 
to the end of the journey for the light of perfect day. 



THE LIFE OP MY FAMILY. 17 



CHAPTER IV. 

SUGAR-MAKING — DANGERS— CHASED BY A BEAR. 

While we tended our.garden and made a clearing 
upon which we raised a small crop of corn and beans 
and potatoes, our principal resource for revenue was in 
the manufacture of maple-sugar. 

The sugar-maple is a most beautiful tree. The trunk 
grows to a considerable height, is moderately slender, 
and the bark is finely grained and much smoother than 
the oak or the chestnut. The foliage is very similar 
to that of the silver-maple, which is seen as an orna- 
mental tree on the streets of New York and in Central 
Park — of a beautiful, tender green — swaying and 
trembling in the breeze like that of the aspen. You 
know what the maple-bloom is ? red as scarlet, and 
brightening the woods and streams in the spring like 
clumps of fiery sparks. 

When the sap is fully mounted in the maple, the tree 
is tapped and buckets are placed in readiness to receive 
the rich stream. It always reminded me of drawing 
blood from the heart, and often I would shudder as the 
sharp tapping knife was run in to extract the life juice. 
Ah ! if all wounds could be as easily healed as those 
inflicted upon the sugar-maple, there would be fewer 
mourning decked figures— fewer shrouded hearthstones. 
But I am moralizing. There are tropes all along my 
route, at which I shall glance in passing. After ex- 



18 THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 

trading the sap, the sugar is obtained by boiling it 
down until it shows symptoms of crystallizing. This 
is ascertained by trying it with a splinter. If at the 
end there hangs a bubble it is done, if not it must be 
boiled until it comes to that point. So just here in 
my narrative, I leave a lesson in domestic economy. 

Notwithstanding my story is full of romance, I hardly 
think many would like the wild-woods life, with so 
many dangers and trying inconveniences to contend 
against. 

But there are troubles and vexations in every con- 
dition and sphere of existence. Strong characters and 
great are not made on beds of down, and fattened on 
sweets and dainties. 

They who leave "footprints on the sands of time," 
are they who come up through great tribulation. 

"Very true, 7 ' some may say, " but there are nerves 
in the way to torture." 

"Nerves! It occurs to me that our grandparents 
had not so much careful consideration for nerves. 
Nerve doctors are of late education." 

Nerves are fashionable troubles, but troubles indeed ; 
not the fancied tormentors of hysteria or lunacy. But 
to goon with my narrative, we often boiled our sugar 
all day, and sometimes worked by moonlight and fire- 
light. Then the woods — lighted up by the ruddy blaze 
that threw its reflection far after the deep shadows — 
would present the most picturesque aspect conceivable. 
The night-birds would fly and whir around the lire, ut- 
ter a shrill cry of curiosity, and then away to the depths 
of the forest — I dare say to represent the intrusion to 
their fellows. I have often imag-ined so. Birds and 



THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 19 

beasts have a language of their own, and I fear their 
complaints are heavy against their superior, man. 

After the sugar had been moulded, Harry would take 

it to market. The nearest settlement was C Y. 

This was ten miles off. His only mode of transporta- 
tion was a wagon drawn by oxen. You know the ex- 
cessive slowness of their gait. It was necessary for 
him to leave home by daybreak in the morning, and 
then he could not be expected to return before the 
same hour the next morning. His absences to me were 
a great trial. 

How often have I been left alone all night in the 
wilderness among the wild beasts. Sometimes he would 
leave at nightfall — kissing me and calling me his 
" brave little wife," and saying : "My Rachel is not a 
coward ! No, no ; " and this when my heart would be 
quaking and my voice trembling so that I could not 
venture to speak. 

How often have I stood and watched his departure 
— gazing after him in the twilight, until all trace of him 
was invisible, and until I would lose the faintest sound 
of his voice, as he cheered or forced on the sluggish 
beasts that drew his wagon. 

Then, with a fearful sigh, I would turn into our 
cabin, close and fasten our door with a ponderous iron 
bar ; for even there, we were not safe from rude incur- 
sions. With the darkness came the howling and bark- 
ing of wolves, the growling of bears, and the fierce 
screams of wild-cats. Nearer and nearer they would 
come, until sometimes they would reach the house. 
There was no sleep for me when my husband was 
away. The howling and barking of the wolves at the 



20 THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY; 

door, the snuffing and snorting of the bears around the 
windows, would continue until daylight, then, as if in- 
stinct with fear, they would return to their dens, and 
I could snatch an hour's repose after my fearful vigil. 
All this time my children could sleep. Oh ! many and 
many a night have I passed in this way, not knowing 
but that morning would find me and my three little 
children the prey of the ravenous beasts. 

One morning Harry went farther into the woods than 
usual for the purpose of chopping down some very 
large trees that he wished to make use of. He had not 
been long at his work, when an immense black bear 
came running directly towards him. He saw it coming, 
and, overwhelmed with fright, he imprudently dropped 
his axe and ran for his life, the bear closely pursuing 
him. He had arrived within a few rods of his house. 
The bear was almost upon his heels. What should he 
do ? One more step and the infuriated and hungry 
beast would be upon him. 

It was a tragical situation and left him no time to 
calculate what might be done in the emergency. The 
instinct of superiority in moral force came to his aid. 
As quick as thought he turned upon his enemy, held 
up both of his hands in a menacing attitude — hooting 
as loudly as he could — all the while keeping his eyes 
fixed steadily on those of the bear. • 

For a moment Bruin stood at bay and seemed calmly 
to consider the situation. Harry's glance never 
wavered. He has piercing eyes, and I fancy they 
must have glittered terribly. At any rate the bear, 
seeming satisfied that he was weaker than his opponent, 
with a sullen growl turned and retreated to the woods. 



THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 2i 

Need I say my husband was thankful for his escape. 
He was as pale as a corpse when he reached the cot- 
tage, and sank into a chair in almost a fainting con- 
dition. 

It was a splendid triumph of man over the brute — 
ot reason over instinct. Or rather it was a happy 
thought of successful strategy. He had no time to 
enter into a course of reasoning. 

He never had another such an encounter. None in 
which danger seemed so imminent from our ferocious 
neighbors, but we were kept in almost constant dread. 

My story carries me back to what I have read of the 
hardships and dangers to which the first settlers of this 
country were exposed and suffered, except that we had 
nothing to fear from the danger of starvation. Of our 
store of simples we had plenty, and cheerfully shared 
with the poor wayfarer whom chance sometimes threw 
upon our bounty. Then we realized to the fullest ex- 
tent the greater blessing in giving than receiving. 

My children's memory served them faithfully in 
reference to many of these incidents, and then those 
young girls formed the design of getting mother to 
write out their history. It was an ambitious thought, 
but in time I gratified them. 



22 THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 



CHAPTER Y. 



our school-ma'am. 



We now began to feel the need of social and educational 
advantages for our children. Up to this time I had 
taught them at home, and their sprightliness and desire 
for instruction induced me to feel that we could not 
do them justice in. the simple and circumscribed sphere 
of our existence. 

When Melissa was seven years old, and Edna six, 
we induced some Frenchmen to put up log-houses, 
bring their families and settle on our farm. We laid 
out a small village, and John La Rue, who afterwards 
proved one of our very best neighbors and friends, built 
his house, and lived with his family just across the street 
from us. Two other Frenchmen with their families 
lived farther down — about a mile off. 

Now we set to work to establish a school. We built 
a rustic log-schoolhouse, and engaged a lady, who came 
with necessary recommendations, to take charge of our 
little institution. She was a very good woman at heart, 
but inclined to be suspicious and irritable, and con- 
stant trifling spats were originating between her and 
the children, which served to keep up a continual 
annoyance. I must relate one. It was a silly affair, 
when we think of it now, but gave serious trouble at the 
time. 

One day after I had put up the children's dinner and 



THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. AS 

sent them to school, I was frightened and surprised 
to see them returning — running as fast as they could — 
with nothing around them or upon their heads. I was 
very careful of their health, and not a little shocked at 
their appearance. 

"What on earth is the matter?" I cried. "What 
has brought you home at this hour of the day — with- 
out either bonnet or shawl — and most breathless ?" 

"The teacher was going to whip us," said Melissa, 
" and we wouldn't stay to be punished by her." 

" Had you done anything to merit punishment ? I will 
not allow you to be rude or impertinent, and if such 
has been the case, I shall have to punish you myself." 

" Stop, mamma ! I will tell you the whole story," said 
Melissa. 

'"Well what is it? You must tell me the entire 
truth. If I find you concealing or exaggerating any 
part of it, I shall not spare you." 

" We were telling some of the scholars," said Melissa, 

" how cross Mrs. was — you know she is cross, 

mamma, and that she whipped the scholars for just 
nothing ; — and you know it is so, mother. Well, when 
she went home, some one told her that we had been 
talking about her, and I guess they told her a great 
deal more than we had said. 

"This morning she called me up, and asked me what 
1 had been telling about her. I would not answer. 
She said : ' You shall tell me.' 

" I would not open my lips. 

" Then she called Edna up. She thought Edna was 
so much smaller and younger, that she would make 
her say just what she pleased. But Edna would not 



24 THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 

say a word, any more than if she didn't have any 
tongue. 

" All the time she had her great, long whip, lying on 
the floor by her side. She reached down to pick it up, 
and said, ' I will see whether you have tongues in your 
heads and cannot be made to speak. I will see whether 
you will answer me.' Ah ! but I tell you we were off 
like lightning! We didn't intend to get a whipping 
because we had told the truth — though she says every 
day : ' Never tell tales out of school.' 

" Away we ran, and she after us. She chased us 
quite a piece down the road — calling out to us to 
' stop !' at every jump. 

" But we were not to be caught very easily. She 
ran until we got in full sight of home, and then gave up 
and went back to the school-room." 

" Now what must I do with you ?" I said. 

" Mamma, you will not whip us, because we did not 
choose to speak ?" said Edna. 

" I certainly do not intend that you shall be disre- 
spectful to your teacher." 

" But. mamma, she does whip terribly sometimes." 

"Then I guess you are sometimes terribly naughty." 

I took them both by the hand and gave them a very 
serious admonition. 

They were so averse to returning to school that day. 
that I could not find it in my heart to force them. 
The uext day, they did not wish to return to school 
for fear of punishment, and T permitted them again to 
remain at home ; in the meantime I determined to see 
the school-ma'am and have the difficulty adjusted. After 
Mrs. 's fit of anger had worn off, she sent up one of 






THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 25 

the scholars with a note, asking me to return my little 
girls — apologizing for her harshness, and promising 
that they should receive no harm. I made her a visit. 
All disagreements were settled, and my children 
returned to school. After that time they got on nicely, 
and continued as long as we were undisturbed in the 
possession of our property, under her tuition. There 
is nothing more delightful than to watch the develop- 
ment of the young mind. It is like the budding and 
growing and blossoming of a beautiful flower. Ah ! 
how careful should every mother be, that no noxious 
seed grow around to shadow and warp its glorious 
promise A parent's responsibility is, indeed, heavy. 
Edna and Melissa were sitting beside me as I was 
writing this simple episode, and their eyes sparkled, 
and a merry gush of laughter burst forth from their 
lips at the recollection of this memorable difficulty 
with their school-ma'am, 

" Mamma, don't you think school urchins have a hard 
time, at best ?" said Edna. 

"The troubles of children, I think, are quite as hard 
for them to bear as the troubles of full-grown life. They 
seem trifling to the older, because the}' are viewed in 
comparison. Nothing is to me more touching than a 
cloud of sadness over the brow of childhood. Ah ! it is 
more merciful that troubles should be reserved until 
later life. It does seem hard that in the fresh spring- 
time the cruel frost should nip and dwarf tender 
fruit. I have more than once seen the snow lay heav- 
ily over apple blossoms — the delicate pink shining 
through in strange, unnatural beauty. It always 



26 



THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 



reminds me of the shrouding of the young heart in 
the blighting, frosty livery of care and sorrow." 

The countenances of the young girls had assumed a 
more serious expression, and affectionately they nestled 
around me — each holding a hand and whispering some- 
thing that made a happy smile steal over my lips, as I 
bent to kiss first one and then the other fair young 
brow uplifted to me. 



THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 27 



CHAPTER VI. 

AN ENEMY AT THE DOOR. 

It was about this time, that my most serious trials had 
their commencement. 

Those I have recounted seem comparatively in- 
significant, and only intended by the A 11 -Wise as a 
preparation for the severer in reserve. It is thus that 
a kind Providence dispenses to us. 

It was now more than eight years that we had lived 
on our land in unmolested possession. Then arose a 
man by the name of Brown, who laid claim to our 
home, and sued my husband for the property. Very 
soon the case came up in the county court. The court 
told my husband to go home and bring in his witnesses, 
to prove the rightfulness of his claim. He went, and 
before he could have time to secure his witnesses and 
return, the case was called up for trial. Brown's lawyer 
produced a tax-sale, effected before my husband took 
up the land, and as there was no plea entered in his 
defence, despite the state-deed held by him, he was cast 
in the suit. 

There was another disgraceful secret connected with 
our failure. Our lawyer was bribed. He received 
fifty dollars from the other side, and did not show our 
deed, or any papers substantiating'our claim. Justice, 
they tell me, is blind. Perhaps she is ; but it does 



28 THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 

seem to me, she should oftener be guided by the sense 
of feeling. 

Within a week after the adjournment of the court, 
the sheriff came to dispossess us of our dearly loved 
home. I say, dearly loved — yes ; for, 



" Be it ever so homely, 
There is no place like home ! 



and this rude little cot in the wilderness had become so 
endeared through joys as well as hardships, that everj^ 
foot of its territory was to me sacred soil. 

When the sheriff made his appearance, I was lying 
on my bed with a severe nervous headache. There was 
a knock at my door, and as I often did, before answer- 
ing such a summons, I got up, and looked out of the 
window. The sheriff was accompanied by several other 
men. One of them requested me to open the door and 
let them in. I asked what they wanted. 

" I am the sheriff,' 7 said one, " and demand admit 
tance into this house." 

" You cannot get it! " said I, very coolly. 

" I am determined to get in ! " said he, " and would 
advise, the less trouble you give, the better it will be 
for you " 

I laughed at him and his implied threat, and told 
him to " go away ;" that I did not mean to give him 
admittance. That I considered his intrusion an out- 
rage, and, authority or no authority, I was not to be 
intimidated by him. He then tried the window, but 
could not force it, as it was securely fastened. 

He said he would •' get in at the door." 






THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 29 

As quickly as possible, I ran and barred the door, and 
calmly stood at bay before my enemy. All this time, 
I was alone with my dear little girls, who, frightened, 
clung to my skirts, weeping bitterly. 

In about an hour my husband returned. When he 
discovered the situation of affairs, he came to the win- 
dow to speak with me. 

In my excitement I forgot to bar the window again. 
This, the sheriff quickly perceived, and raising the 
sash, leaped in, and his companions after him. 

At once he went to the door, unfastened it and told 
me he had authority to put us out of the house. 

We requested him, if he had any such authority to 
produce and read it. 

He would not, but tried for more than two hours to 
persuade us to leave the house peaceably. 

I would consent to no such thing. I told him I was 
not going out of my house. I said : "I will not go, and 
I defy you to put me out." 

He then stepped to the door and spoke aside to his 
companions ; when they all turned and commenced 
putting my furniture out of the house. My husband 
stoutly resisted, but he was powerless before the supe- 
rior force of the sheriff. 

After they had put everything out. they came tow- 
ards me, to force me. The tigress must have been 
strong in me at that moment. I placed myself defiantly 
with my back to the wall. 

"Do you intend to leave these premises?' 7 said the 

sheriff. 

• ■ 

" No," said I, as calmly as my voice would per- 
mit. 



30 THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 

" I am sorry, madam," said he, " but you will have 
to go." 

"I shall not, sir, unless you compel me by brute 
force." 

He came towards me. 

" I will tear your eyes out ! " cried I, clutching him 
fiercely. We had a stout struggle. 

He laughed in derision, and with some fearful oaths, 
which I could not sully my tongue to repeat, he got one 
of the men to assist him, and dragged me out of the 
house — my poor little children, frightened, and scream- 
ing after me : "Do not kill our poor mother ! Do not 
kill our poor mother ! " 

Poor Harry — my dear husband ! What could he 
do ? He was held by two of the men, while he saw his 
wife and children dragged out of their house, by a set 
of commissioned, relentless persecutors. 

I took my youngest child in my arms, while the other 
two clung to me — almost bereft of their senses. 

The window of the house had been barred — the door 
had been closed and locked, and there we stood mocked 
at and derided — an outraged family, with only the blue 
sky and the green leaves of the forest for a shelter. 

We were not without friends, however, who were 
ready to open to us their hospitable doors. By ad- 
vice, we went at once to a judge and a lawyer. They 
examined our papers, carefully sifted the evidence in 
the case, and told us we had been unjustly and unlaw- 
fully put out, and furnished us with written authority 
to return again and take possession of our home. We 
did so. We moved on to our land, taking our house- 
hold chattels with us. We found the doors of our cot- 



THE LIFE OF M* FAMILY. 31 

tage wide open, and no one near to dispute our owner- 
ship. We went in, and once more took possession of 
our simple little home. 

It seemed then a very charming little spot, and I felt 
almost like kneeling down and kissing the very thresh- 
old of the door. 

Harry looked very much older and paler for his re- 
cent troubles, and as I laughed at him, and called him 
a croaker, he said: " Be happy if you can, Rachel, but 
I fear we have not had the last of Brown's perse- 
cutions." 

And he was right in his suspicions. It was not long 
before this was made evident. Brown had his emis- 
saries, and what he could not effect b} T law or force he de- 
termined to accomplish by strategy. He was a cruel, 
envious man, and capable of any outrage. 

One afternoon, I had been to make a call upon one 
of my neighbors, about half a mile off, and as I was 
returning home, between sundown and dark, and had 
proceeded not quite half-way, I heard some one behind 
me, hallooing and swearing. 

I stopped and looked around. I did not see any one, 
and was very leisurely pursuing my way when I heard 
another fierce shout. I turned quickly around and ob- 
served an Irishman of the neighborhood, by the name 
of O'Brien, just emerging from the woods and running 
after me with an axe uplifted, with which he swore he 
intended to kill me. 

I took time for one single look, and then snatching ofl 
my bonnet and shawl, I ran for my life. I was always 
a fast runner. You laugh, dear reader. Well, it was 
said, I ran " like a deer." 



32 THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY, 

I now ran so fast, it seemed as though my feet scarce^ 
ly touched the ground. Fear lent speed to them. I 
flew on, rather than ran> and never once stopped until 
I had reached my house, wtien I fell exhausted on the 
threshold. I fainted and when consciousness returned, 
I lay on my bed— my husband bent over me. 



THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 33 



CHAPTER VII. 

THE INDIAN RAID AND THE RESCUE. 

One pleasant morning, just six weeks after this, the 
sun was shining brightly, the birds were singing 
sweetly, and all nature appeared so smiling and happy. 
I felt that I could not longer remain within doors. 

After the adventure detailed, I had kept myself 
very closely, for I knew not at what moment a foe lurk- 
ing in ambush might fall upon and kill me. The spite 
of our enemy seemed to be directed rather towards 
me than my husband. Harry was a quiet, good man, 
and only when driven to extremes, did he ever give 
way to violent anger. Being myself of a more exci- 
table temperament, it is not surprising that I should use 
language that infuriated, and which was not soon for- 
gotten by Brown and his emmissaries. 

Well, as I began to tell you, this fine and glorious 
morning, I took the children and started out for a 
walk. There was a blithsome carol among the birds 
in the trees above my head, and the sky was as blue 
as the waters of the lake. We took a path which led 
us along until we came in full sight of Harry. There 
he was with a great fire, his big iron kettle hanging 
over it, boiling down sap, and making maple-sugar. 

Everything around was so peaceful, and simple, 
and quiet, and happy — I stopped a moment to contem- 
plate. It was extremely difficult for me to realize the 



34 THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 

events of the last few months of my life. I tried to 
think of them as a terrible dream, and in the moment 
fervently prayed for forgiveness to all who had wronged 
us. It is at such times that the soul is uplifted above 
the grosser things of earth and asserts its kinship to 
the Deity. 

" Come, mamma, come ! ? ' shouted Maude. " Let us 
run and see how soon we can get to papa.*' 

" Yes ! yes ! " cried Edna, and with Melissa in front, 
I gave each of the younger a hand and away we ran 
until we came up to the place where the great kettle 
sent up its fragrant steam from the honeyed juice, 
that was rapidly settling down to glistening crystals of 
maple-sugar. 

He was just trying the sap with a splinter. On the 
end hung a transparent bubble, and he knew that his 
work was about done. 

"0 papa, let me try the sugar ! 7? said Melissa. " It 
is such nice fun ; I like it ! " 

"Let me try, too ! " cried Edna. 

" And me, too ! " chimed in Maude, and three clean, 
nice splinters were held by them in readiness to plunge 
into the boiling syrup. 

"Oh, you little mischiefs!' 7 said Harry. "If you 
come around me in this way you will bother me so that 
I can do nothing." 

Pretty soon he took off the large kettle and poured 
the syrnp out into pens to mould. Then buckets of raw 
sap were emptied in, the large kettle again hung 
over the fire, and the sugar-making proceeded. 

I assisted Harry in keeping up the fire, but the chil- 
dren were around teasing us so that we could not work. 



THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 35 

" I will see if I can't find something that will amuse 
them," said he. He left his seat and gathered up an 
armful of dry bushes, and, piling them higher than their 
heads, he set fire to the pile. Immediately there was a 
splendid blaze, crackling and wreathing in red and 
yellow and blue pennons, almost as high as some of the 
trees. It was a splendid sight in the grand old woods 
that morning, and as the dear little girls laughed and 
shouted around it, and Harry's face grew broader and 
more genial at the sight, I fancied myself so happy that 
nothing dare disturb me. Alas ! 

We remained with my husband until almost eleven 
o'clock, when I took the children and returned to the 
cottage to prepare dinner. We were in sight of the 
house, and not more than a quarter of a mile from the 
door, when Melissa started and ran on ahead of us. I 
saw her turn the corner of the house, and then I heard 
a piercing scream. I perfectly recognized her voice, 
and ran towards the spot as fast as my feet could carry 
me. 

I arrived just in time to see her borne off in the 
arms of a gigantic Indian, who belonged to a tribe that 
was at that time prowling about that portion of the 
country. 

I shrieked in utter madness and was about to pursue 
them, when I observed an Indian stealthily approach- 
ing from an opposite direction. He made gestures to 
me to stop and remain where I was. I knew him. He 
had been very friendly with us, and had sometimes 
broken bread at our table. I felt that now I might 
trust him, and kept my position until he came up. 

By this time the roaming party had disappeared, 



36 THK LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 

carrying my child with them. After they had gone, he 
was silent, but led me half fainting into the house, and 
then said : " Harry ! Where is he ?" 

"Down at the sugar- works," I replied. 

" Good ! " he exclaimed. " Do not go for him ! " 

" I must ! I must ! my child ! my child ! " I cried. 

"I go for the child! No! no! I go for the child. 
Let Harry stay ! Take care of you ; I go for the pap- 
poose ; I follow the trail night and day, and day and 
night, until the pretty little one is rescued and brought 
back to the arms of her mother. Do not weep ! Be- 
fore six suns I come back, and bring joy to the cottage ! 
I can say no more ! Farewell ! I go ! " 

He suddenly wrenched my hand, and before I could 
utter a single word of thanks he was gone. I watched 
him in his long lope as he disappeared down through 
the path that sank into the depths of the woods, and I 
sent after him a feeble, heart-wrung prayer. 

How small had seemed all of my troubles before 
that. Even the harshness of the sheriff and the violence 
of the Irishman were almost forgotten. My voice burst 
forth in one long cry: "0 God, restore to me my 
child ! my darling first-born ! my dear little daughter ! " 

I refused to be comforted ! 

Day followed day, night followed night, until six 
days and nights had come and gone, and the friendly 
Indian returned not with my lost treasure. I was very 
near derangement. Harry could not pursue them, as 
he found it impossible to get upon their trail, and could 
have done little alone. Indeed, his faith in the Indian 
was such that, although wretched himself, he sometimes 
tried to laugh at my fears. Six suns had risen and 



THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 37 

set, and my hearthstone was sad and dark, for the loss 
of Melissa. 

I began to think that my Indian friend had found 
that he could not rescue my child and never meant to 
Veturn. Even as I sat thus thinking, the door was 
opened, and with a loud, clear, ringing laugh and a joy- 
ous shout, Melissa rushed into my arms. " Mamma, I 
am home again ! " 

We were so completely overcome with joy at sight 
of her, that, for the moment, the generous Indian was 
forgotten. When I did remember, I looked around, 
but he had disappeared. 

"Where is the good Indian, Melissa?" I asked. 

" He has gone, mamma ; I could not make him come 
in." 

At once I ran to the door, and, vanishing in the 
depths of the forest, I beheld his tall figure. I called 
him, but if he heard my voice he did not turn his head. 
He was quite out of way of a mother's thanks, but a 
mother sent her blessing after him, and in her prayers 
she never forgets to ask God's renewal of them for her 
dusky friend of the wilderness. 

Melissa clung to her father and myself between 
laughing and cr}dng — looking up into our faces, oh ! 
with such unutterable tenderness, and kissing us with 
a rapture she had never expressed before. 

" Can you tell us anything of your rescue?" asked 
Harry, as soon as the first excitement of her recovery 
had worn off and left room for a degree of curiosity as 
to the child's singular adventure. 

" Do tell us ! " I cried, pressing her to my bosom and 
bedewing her brown hair with my tears. 



38 THE LIFE OF My FaMtLY; 

" Yes, mamma, the good Indian told me. He said, 
after he left you, he followed the trail night and day 
until he came in sight of us ; and the third night, when 
they were all asleep away off near one of the great 
lakes, he came upon the encampment, slipped in, 
folded his hand upon my mouth so that 1 could not 
scream, and stole away in the darkness. 

" I was terribly frightened when I found myself so 
rudely seized, but he whispered every moment: 'Friend ! 
Good Indian ! Take poor little white bird back to 
mother's nest ! Hush ! Hush ! Pretty baby ! Nice 
little pappoose! G-ood little girl ! Take back to father, 
mother, sisters. Hush ! Hush ! !' 

"It was so dark I could not see him, but he held me 
as gently as you would have done, and when morning 
came he carried me lo a kind lady's house who gave 
me some nice warm breakfast, and then laid me down 
on a clean, white little bed for me to get some sleep. 

" It was quite dinner time when I awoke, and after 
dinner, the good Indiau took me up in his arms, and 
tramped on and on until I got home again. I like him 
ever so much, and you must all like him, because he 
was so kind and brought me safe home again." 

"Did the Indians who stole you treat you kindly ? " 
said Harry, drawing Melissa close to his bosom. 

11 Oh, yes. They petted me, and gave me a great 
many beautiful things, and told me I was to be the 
child of the tribe, but I did nothing but cry and beg 
them to take me home to my own father and mother.' 7 

This was a new cause for anxiety with us. From 
that time for many weeks we could not feel exactly safe 
to trust the children out of our sight But after awhile 



THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 39 

this anxiety wore off. Harry secured a very fine 
watch-dog that was trained to guard our house, and 
then we had little fear of intrusion. The dog grew 
very fierce, and few could have withstood the grim 
array of sharp teeth that he now and then presented. 

It was necessary for Harry to be frequently away 
from home, and often I was called out, and we left our 
little girls with their faithful guardian well assured that 
no harm would happen them. 

Oh ! gentle reader, in our wild-woods life I might 
tell of a thousand things of interest if I could at this 
moment recall them, but just now I can only relate the 
most startling — those engraven on my memory, as it 
were with a pen of iron. Some of them may chill the 
blood, but bear with me ! 



40 THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

THE ENEMY STRIKES AND IS STRUCK. 

Two months and a half after the recovery of our little 
girl, Brown tried again to get us off. He could not do 
it by law, in that his effort had failed, and he made use 
of strategy. 

The depths of the man's envy and cunning could not 
be fathomed. 

We had a greater quantity of .land in our tract than 
we could make effective, and had determined to dispose 
of a portion of it, and encourage a thicker settlement. 
We had frequently spoken of going to the nearest rail- 
road depot, for the purpose of negotiating the sale of a 
hundred acres to a merchant, who had signified his 
wish to purchase. We accordingly started early one 
morning, for the trip was not a short one, and I had 
also some shopping to attend to. 

It grieved us to think of leaving the children alone, 
but thought it would be foolish to call in any of the 
neighbors to take care of them, and told them to 
bar the door after we had left, and to refuse admit- 
tance to any one who might desire to come in. They 
were brave little girls — said they were not afraid — 
kissed us in high glee, and we left them with the dog 
for a guard. As long as they could see us from the win- 
dow, they were waving their pinafores, throwing kisses 
and clapping their hands. We could hear the shouts 



THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 41 

of their merry laughter even after we were out of sight, 
in the turning in the woods. 

But they were not long undisturbed in their security. 
When we returned, a woful sight met our eyes, and a 
woful story came to our ears. Lissa told us that after 
we had left, Emma and herself sat down by the win- 
dow, well pleased to listen to the singing of the birds and 
the ring of the woodman's axe far down in the forest, 
and to see the beautiful wild flowers transplanted in 
our garden, all abloom and bent under their weight of 
crystal dew-drops. It was a charming morning. Na- 
ture was alive with freshness and beautv, and fra- 
grance and peace. 

They were very happy, and in their artlessness, 
were weaving romances for the future, and childishly 
wondering what the great world could be, outside 
of their limited sphere of acquaintance. 

They had not been sitting thus quietly very long, be- 
fore they saw an Irishman come running down the road 
in great haste. When he arrived within a few paces 
of the house ; he stopped, and putting his hand up 
to his face to assist his sight, blinded in the glare 
of sunshine, he looked off intently, many minutes, down 
the road. His strange manner and gestures somewhat 
alarming them, they left the window and took a seat 
beside the stove. Hearing no noise their alarm was 
calmed, and they laughed and talked, thinking no more 
about it. 

After sitting awhile, they fancied a sound under the 
window, like the stealthy tread of a man. They looked 
up and beheld the same Irishman, who still seemed 
watching the road, as he feared the approach of some 



42 THE LIFE) OF MY FAMILY. 

one. Being satisfied that he was unpereeived, he 
made an attempt to force the window. 

The girls remained perfectly still and watched his 
movements. 

" What do you want? " said Melissa. 

"I want to come in ! " he replied, muttering curses 
to himself, and looking very strangely. 

"You have no business here," cried Edna, " and you 
must go away." 

" Be Jabers, I'll show you what business I have 
here, I will ! " swore the infuriated Irishman, "and ye 
had best open the window, ye had, or I'll smash it ; 
sure's ye're born, I will ! " 

" We'll not open it ! " said Melissa, slapping her 
hands, and urging the dog upon the intruder. 

"Then here it goes!" cried the Irishman, at the 
same time driving the window in with a terrific crash. 

All the while the dog kept up a barking that was 
deafening to hear. 

With one bound the man leaped from the ground to 
the window, and into the house. 

Edna had called the dog to her side, patted and ca- 
ressed him, saying : " Now, Watch, brave old fellow, be 
our friend! Oh, here, Watch! Take him ! " The dog 
sprang towards him, and they expected every moment 
to have seen him torn to pieces. He had aimed at the 
man's throat, but with a dexterous movement, the 
Irishman grappled the dog by the collar, and held him 
at arms length, quietly gazing into his eyes. 

He released his hold upon the dog, wiiich retreated, 
growling and barking angrily, but refusing any more 
decided hostility to the ruthless invader. 






THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 43 

After quieting the clog, or at least, after intimidating 
the animal, he proceeded to put the furniture out of the 
house. 

When Melissa and Edna discovered his intention, 
they went to the bed upon which Maude was still 
lying, she, having gone back for another nap after we 
had left, got her up, and dressed her, for in a few mo- 
ments the poor frightened children were ordered to 
leave the house. They ran off to the woods, in tears 
and agony, not knowing what to do. 

About this time O'Brien's girl appeared to give him 
assistance in his villanous work — for O'Brien was the 
Irishman who again came to torment us, as the instru- 
ment of Brown. 

He told her to watch around the premises, and when 
she saw us approaching, to blow a blast «on the horn 
with which he had supplied her, so that he might be 
ready for any emergency. 

While my husband, the merchant and myself sat con- 
versing together in reference to the contemplated sale 
oP a portion of our land, I noticed a single horseman 
coming up towards the store. He rode hurriedly up 
to the house, reined in his panting steed, dismounted, 
and as he was rapidly proceeding up the path to the 
store, I recognized our neighbor John La Rue. My 
heart misgave me. I felt that he was the bearer of 
evil tidings. With trembling limbs I ran out to meet 
him, and prayed him to tell me what was the matter. 

11 The Irishman, O'Brien." said he, " sent by Brown, 
has broken into your house and is putting the furniture 
out. 5 ' 

" My children ? where are they ?" I cried. 



44 THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 

" I cannot tell. I did not see them," said La Rue. 
''I suppose they have taken shelter in the woods. 
They should have come to my house, but did not." 

" O God !" I cried. " My poor little girls !" 

My very worst fears were excited, and I felt that I 
was almost a maniac. 

" Calm yourself, my good woman," said La Rue. 

" Calm ! How can I be calm ?" I exclaimed. 

La Rue led me into the store, where he told Harry 
and the merchant the whole story. 

He said he had been travelling all the forenoon in 
different directions to find us aud have a stop put to 
such revengeful and lawless proceedings. 

When the merchant heard of it he said nothing, but. 
taking down his gun, he loaded it, and handing it to 
Harry said :• u Take this gun, Mr. Watson, and if 
O'Brien attempts any further depredations upon your 
premises shoot him dead!" 

My heart recoiled at the terrible advice, but in the 
extremity it seemed the only thing left for Harry to 
do. 

He thanked him and accepted the gun. After bid- 
ding him good-by, we started, first to search for our 
children, and then to seek our poor, dismantled home. 
It was past three o'clock in the afternoon when we 
came in sight of it. What my feelings were it would be 
powerless in any one to imagine ; I cannot correctly 
depict them ! 

We found our wretched little girls sitting on the 
grass by the roadside, and near them the girl of O'Brien, 
who, immediately upon seeing us, placed the horn to 
her mouth and blew a blast, long and loud. Harry 






THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 45 

took the two youngest children, Edna and Maude, and 
hastened with them into the house ; shut and barred 
the door, and then, taking some boards, nailed them 
on — securing the window from the inside. 

He had but just completed his work when O'Brien 
came. I wish that my terrible story could end at this 
point, but alas ! it cannot. Oh ! that day ! I wish I 
could forget it ! It hangs upon my memory — a black 
scroll, written all over with blood ! O'Brien climbed 
up on the ends of the logs at the corner of the house, 
and deliberately went to work to knock off some of 
the clapboards with his axe in order to secure an 
entrance upon the roof. After he had accomplished 
this he came in — axe in hand — swearing he intended 
to kill the whole family. Harry heard him talking 
overhead, and going to the door that leads upstairs, he 
saw him open it and stand for a moment as if debating 
in his own mind what step he should take next. 

Was it an evil genius that goaded on the man ? He 
had no cause for quarrel with us, and Brown's bribe 
could uot have been so great as to make him willing 
to sell his soul. Ah ! if he had stopped just there, 
and had permitted his better nature to have had a 
voice ; but he did not ! 

Lifting the axe — with a furious scowl deforming his 
countenance, he made ready to descend — declaring all 
the while in horrid oaths that he " intended to kill 
every d — 1 of an Watson " — he did. Oh ! it was fear- 
ful, beyond description. My husband was prepared 
for him, and shouted to him to come no farther, or he 
was a dead man. 

He laughed in awful mockery and brandished his 
axe. He seemed more demon than man. 



46 THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 

"For God's sake, go back !" cried Harry, 'for if 
you advance another step 1 shall put a ball through 
you." He was trembling with excitement. 

" You will !" said O'Brien. " Then we shall see," 
accompanying every word with a disgraceful oath. 
Harry lifted his gun. O'Brien saw the gesture, but 
heeded not the threatening. He advanced a few step* 
farther down. 

Harry once more warned him to return. " Go back 
for your life !" he cried ; " or, I fire!" 

Still he came on ! Was it a fiend of darkness that 
impelled him, or was it destiny ? 

He lifted and brandished his axe with a fierce smile. 
Hary again raised his gun, and fired ! 

There was a single shriek, suppressed by a gurgling 
groan, and, dropping the axe from his nerveless grasp, 
O'Brien staggered, fell forward against the side of the 
stairway, and in a few moments expired 1 

The ball had penetrated his forehead, and, lodging- 
near the base of the brain, caused his death almost in- 
stantly. 

There was a rush to the house at the sound of the 
report. A great pool of blood dabbled the floor. See- 
ing which I fainted ! 



TttE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 47 



CHAPTER IX. 

HARRY IN DURANCE. 

After a long pause, during which to relieve ray pent> 
up emotions by a flood of tears, I pursue my touching 
narrative. 

I have often thought, that interval of entire oblivion 
was a most blessed providence. 

I was aroused from it, as from a deep sleep, and I 
have sometimes imagined since that then I experienced 
the blissful and perfect rest of the grave. 

I looked around and could not tell where I was ! 
There were a number of faces beaming over me and 
the first expression that fell upon my quickened hear- 
ing was : " She is alive ! She is alive ! " 

II Where am I V I asked. " Do tell me !" 

I heard a confusion of sounds, sprang partly up, 
and slowly a dim recollection of the awful tragedy that 
had been enacted in my cottage returned to my awak- 
ening mind. 

II My husband ! Harry ! My Harry ! Where is he ?" 
"Very near you !" said one. 

"Is he? Is he dead?" 

"No, be quiet. You will see him after a while ! " 

11 He killed ! he killed O'Brien didn't he ?" 

11 Yes," said a friend in a low voice. " He killed him !" 
" Oh, my God !" I cried in agony. " My God ! My 
God ! " 



48 THE LttfE OF MY FAMILY. 

I felt a faintness — death-like — stealing over me. 
The earth, the trees, the faces around me, the sky — all 
seemed melting, melting into a blue haze, in which I 
floated — an immaterial mass of — I could not tell what. 

My face was sprinkled with water, water was placed to 
my lips, while my cold and stiffening hands were 
clasped. I opened my eyes again. I knew all that 
was passing around me. I prayed to die ! I had been 
taken from the house, and was supported in the arms 
of a friend, on the fresh green grass — under the shade 
of a spreading beach, with the wild breeze fanning 
my temples. 

I looked down upon my hands, and almost fancied 
them stained with blood. I shuddered. 

During the period of my unconsciousness, quite a 
large crowd had collected around our house, for ill 
news never needs a messenger. Among others, were 
all of O'Brien's family, consisting of his wife, his 
daughters and two sons. How I pitied them, and 
would have given worlds to relieve their agony. His 
two sons ran up to the house, armed with stones, to do 
what violence they could. 

My husband saw them coming, and called to them to 
stand back and make no rash attempt, or he would 
shoot them in their tracks. He had been terribly 
infuriated and stood like a lion at bay. His face 
glowed with anger, and his eyes were blood-shot. I can 
never forget his appearance. I covered my eyes with 
my hands — to hide him from me. 

While all this was going on, I stood in the yard in 
front of the house, more really mad than in my senses. 
As I was standing there, one of the sons of O'Brien 



trlR UFE OF MY FAMTLt. 49 

picked up an immense stone, and was in the very act 
of hurling it at my head, when his mother providen- 
tially caught his hand and prevented the execution of 
his foul purpose. 

There were yells and cries all around me, like the 
cries and yells of maniacs. Harry was locked up in 
the house. They demanded his coming forth. He 
would not. Finally, they applied a blazing torch to the 
house, and swore they would burn him up in it, or kill 
him if he made an attempt to escape. 

It soon began to blaze, and a black wreath of smoke 
curled up above it and floated away over the trees. It 
was the pyre of my home. 

I was frantic. I tried to rush in and save my hus- 
band and children, but strong hands restrained me. I 
shouted to Harry and told him they had set fire to the 
house, and if he could not escape himself to let the 
children out. With the force of a giant, he ripped the 
boards from the window, and Edna and Maude, fright- 
ened until they were almost speechless, were thrust 
forth. They sprang to my side, clasped, each of them, 
one of my hands, and covered them with their tears. 

"0 mamma!" they cried; " our poor, poor papa! 
He will be burnt up ? He will be burnt alive ! Oh ! 
it is almost roasting in there, now ! " 

II Hush, my children ! For Heaven's sake, hush ! if 
you would not drive me stark mad !" 

" Mamma ! can't we do something ? Will nobody save 
our dear, dear father ? " 

" Did your dear, dear father save my father ? " said 
one of O'Brien's daughters, coming up and rudely sha- 
king her fist in the face of Edna. 



50 THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 

11 He ought to roast alive ! he ought. !'' she exclaimed 
— looking like a very fury — her hair streaming in the 
Wind. 

" Poor girl ! " I said, " poor young girl ! " while my 
strained eyeballs watched the swift demolition of all upon 
which my hopes for life were anchored. " I forgive 
your wrath, but I cannot restore your dead." 

The fire was now fast spreading, until one whole side 
of the house was in a blaze. It crackled and flashed 
—sending up whole sheets of sparks — like tiny meteors 
— drifting away in mocking beauty over the tall forest- 
trees. The western wind sprang up and twisted the 
flame in fantastic banners — flaunting in relentless 
triumph over the work of destruction. 

I now thought that there was no possible chance to 
save my husband. His rescue from the burning house 
would be but to throw him into the hands of those who 
stood sworn to take his life. Between being burned 
alive, and seeing him murdered before my eyes — how 
'could I — which was I — to choose ? God ! was ever 
wife and mother so tried? 

I looked on until my brain seemed on fire, and I felt 
ready to curse myself for my impotence. My little 
girls clustered around me. il Mamma, what shall we 
do? 1 ' 

I fell upon my knees, and there with the flames of 
my bridal home roaring in my ears, the wind sweeping 
the sparks over my head, the blue sky and the green 
of the trees bending above us, I sent up a wailing 
petition to high Heaven, that my dear, dear husband, 
that the father of my poor little girls, might be saved 
from the fire ; might be saved from a death of violence — 



THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 51 

from the hands of enemies ! I was strengthened ! I felt, 
that if there was a God in heaven, he could not refuse 
to reject the outpourings of a breaking heart. 

I stood upon m\ T feet and looked around. My prayer 
was answered — even in that moment. I saw the con- 
stable approaching, and hailed him as a Heaven-sent 
deliverer. With him was a posse of men, all armed 
with authority to suppress violence, and protect the 
suffering. They arrived just in time, to rescue Harry 
from death by suffocation. I could have shouted ; but 
he was scarcely safe yet. It was almost more than 
they could do, to prevent my husband's being mur- 
dered by the O'Briens, although in the custody of the 
law. 

There was a fierce altercation, in the midst of which, 
my husband was placed in the constable's carriage and 
driven off to prison, without a word of farewell to his 
wife : without a word of farewell to his little girls ; 
without the kiss, that never before since he had been 
my husband and their father, had we missed upon ever 
so short a separation. Yes ; he was gone — gone from 
us — gone to prison ! the inmate of a felon's cell ! for 
murder ! for taking the life of a fellow-man, whose 
gory corpse lay helpless and harmless before my eyes ! 
but I thanked God for his prison-cell ? I looked at my 
little log-house — the wilderness home to which I had 
been borne, a simple, artless trusting, happy bride — 
now fast smouldering to a heap of shapeless ashes before 
my eyes ; as the broad rays of the setting sun cast 
lon^r, deep shadows over the forest, I beheld the wreck 
of hopes ; I saw the blasted prospect of the future ; the 
cruel taunts of the world upon the children of a horni- 



52 TfiE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 

cide, and I thanked God, it was no worse ! In my 
grateful heart I sang : 

" When all thy mercies, oh, my God, 
My rising soul surveys ; 
Transported with the view I'm lost 
In wonder, love, and praise ! " 

Truly we know not what a day may bring forth. 
When I arose that morning, before daybreak had shed 
its pearly tint upon the treetops, I had never felt a 
purer sense of security. The sun rose upon my husband 
and myself as we were on our way to negotiate a busi- 
ness arrangement for the future comfort and well being 
of the children that God had given us, undreaming of 
trouble. Noon came with a warning. Evening saw me 
shelterless — dependent upon friends for supper and 
bed — my home in ruins — my husband — his hands red 
with a brother's blood — a felon in the hospitable quar- 
ters of the county jail — and yet, before I left the wreck 
of my home, I sank again upon my knees and thanked 
God. 

I thanked him for the rescue of my children from the 
fire ! I thanked him that my dear husband shed blood 
alone in defence of his own life ! I thanked Him that 
my husband had not been permitted to perish in the 
flames, or at the hands of an infuriated avenger ! I 
thanked God for the establishment of the civil law, 
which might discriminate between what was crime and 
what not ! I thanked him for the gift of his dear Son, 
Jesus Christ, whose blood was shed to wash away all 
sin — even the sin of blood-shedding ! 



THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 53 



CHAPTER X. 

A FRIEND IN NEED. 

As I come to this point in my life, my head is bowed 
upon my hands in the silent work of retrospection. 
Edna stole up to my side and taking one of my hands 
sighed : " Dear mamma." This significant movement re- 
called me to my self-possession, and, lifting my head, 
I exclaimed: "Is itnot a wonder I lived through it 
all ? Yes ! yes, it is. How much the human heart 
can bear ! It seems quite as elastic as gas, and yet 
can bear a greater pressure than stone !" 

After my husband had been driven off to prison, 
kind Mr. La Rue took me with my children to his 
house. But there, ' we could not be safe ' for a single 
moment. The avengers of O'Brien's death had con- 
stituted themselves a mob — keenly anxious to wreak 
harm on some one. 

In a few minutes the brother of John La Rue came 
with a horse and wagon and took my children and my- 
self from the excited neighborhood. We were carried 
to a friend's — a Mr. Eveleigh's — more than thirty miles 
distant. We did not have time to change our dress. 
My little girls had been preparing for bed, and snatch- 
ing up some shawls and throwing around them, we were 
put into the wagon and hastily driven off. 

But this did not quell the excitement. The infuri- 
ated mob seemed determined to secure a victim upon 
whom to wreak their revenge. They were more than 



54 THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 

fifty Irishmen present, who set out in search of Browri 
to kill him. They chased him to his house, and, run- 
ning for his life, he was compelled to plead and use the 
most extraordinary exertions to prevent the execution 
of their threatenings. Nothing more horrible could be 
imagined than a mob drunk with passion. The thirst 
for blood exceeds even the stories told of the wild 
beasts in the jungles of India. 

Brown was not a brave man, and his cowardly plead- 
ings at last awakening their contempt, they left him to 
muse over the consequences of his wickedness. 

While all this was going on, we were being driven 
rapidly away from the scene. I will not attempt to 
depict my feelings as I turned my back upon the ruins 
of ray home and found myself in the darkling woods, 
with the new moon hanging her silver crescent over 
the western horizon — dimly seen through the trees ; 
and the gentle stars peeping out one by one — silent 
sentinels over the stilly night — looking down into my 
aching eyes and mirroring themselves in the tears that 
hung upon my cheeks like tender, sympathetic kisses. 
Sweet comfort there is in tears. 

We lost no time on the route. Attached to our wag- 
on were a pair of strong, faithful horses, which seemed 
instinct with the necessity of the occasion and scarcely 
needed urging to hasten them on as fast as their ut- 
most speed could carry them. We were very nearly live 
hours in making the trip, but at last arrived in safety. 

I need scarcely say we were kindly received. Their 
hospitable doors were quickly thrown open and the 
best cheer their simple establishment afforded was 
placed at our convenience. 



i 



THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 55 

" And, Mr. Eveleigh," I said, " you do not refuse to 
extend shelter and comfort to the wife and children of 
a homicide ?" 

11 The wife and children of a homicide ?" he echoed. 
" Must a man have his whole family butchered before 
his eyes, and withhold his hand from vengeance, be- 
cause, perchance, he may deprive a ruffian of life ? I 
should have killed O'Brien if the rope to hang me had 
beeen dangling above my head — the next moment to 
find itself around my neck, with the knot under my 
right ear." 

" Then you do not regard my husband — my good 
and noble Harry — a murderer !" 

"A murderer? No!" he exclaimed. " The pity 
is that Brown could not have shared the same fate as 
O'Brien ; for he is indeed the real murderer. Law is 
sometimes a sad farce. Why was not Brown put un- 
der arrest for instigating the hellish deed? He de- 
serves a cell in the penitentiary ! 

" He will make it appear that he was the aggrieved 
party — through the persistent efforts of the Irish to se- 
cure his person — and will manage to get them all put 
in bonds to keep the peace." 

11 Aha ! Well may Justice be painted blind. I am 
sure, if she kept only one eye open, she would discard 
her high estate and throw aside her scales in disgust," 
said Mr. Eveleigh. 

" He has been a most relentless enemy, and it all 
seems with the fixed intent to force us from our simple 
little estate," I replied. 

11 A bother on him !" cried Mr. Eveleigh. " I hope 
if he ever succeeds that blight and mildew and famine 



56 THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 

and death may seize upon his effects as did the plagues 
upon the Egyptians." 

It was quite daybreak before I thought of lying 
down for a moment's rest. My poor little girls were 
asleep. I looked down upon them in their innocent 
slumber and prayed to G-od in judgment to remember 
mercy. I lay down, but only to think and watch and 
pray. The morning sunshine soon came streaming in 
through the eastern window. I got up and looked out, 
almost unable to realize my situation. 



THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 57 



CHAPTER XI. 

COMFORT IN PRISON. 

The dislike that was evinced towards my husband ex- 
tended to John La Rue after the outrage upon our 
home. He was subjected to continual annoyance, and 
soon found that it was impossible to live there in peace 
after showing us so much kindness. He was compelled 
to keep a constant watch, and said he " should not have 
been surprised at any time to have been awakened 
with the cry of fire over his head." He was in the 
habit of getting up three or four times every night and 
looking around to see that all was safe. 

Under such circumstances, he determined to leave 
the neighborhood. He was not a coward, but could 
not endure the perpetual dread and irritation to which 
he was subjected. 

Before leaving, he made me a visit at Mr. Eveleiglrs. 
Oh! he was ever as kind and thoughtful and sympa- 
thizing as a brother : had always some words of cheer, 
some words of hope, some words of encouragement, 
some words of comfort to whisper to my sickened soul. 
He was the friend in need, and never, as I pour out 
my tried heart before God, that I do not remember to 
ask a kind Providence to look over, guard and keep 
and bless him in sleep or awake ; in his going out and 
his coming in ; in basket and store ; in all his ways 
He accompanied me on a visit to my husband in his 



58 THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 

prison. Poor Harry ! I shall never forget bow his face 
brightened up as the key turned in the heavy lock and 
he opened his arms to embrace his wife. His head 
drooped on my neck and his frame was shaken with con- 
vulsive sobs. As soon as he could command his voice, 
he whispered : " God bless you, Kachel ! God bless 
you, my dear wife ! God bless you, my guardian an- 
gel !" 

" My husband ! Oh, my beloved husband !" I cried. 
I could say no more at the time, but clung to him as 
though it might have been our last embrace, while he 
raised my head and looked into my eyes. " Be quiet, 
my wife ! Everything will work right in the end !" 
He said this as calmly as if in our own home. 

" Oh, my husband ! Everything seems so dark 
now." I shuddered as I turned to look at his prison 
cell, and through the narrow window with its close iron 
grating. 

"Well, my dear, let us console ourselves with the 
knowledge of the fact that the darkest hour is always 
just before the dawn." 

4i I dread, Harry, and I fear." 

" Dread and/<w, what ?" 

" That the darkest hour has not yet come to us." 

" What do you mean, Rachel ? 7 

" Harry, on your trial the jury may be bribed, 
your lawyer may prove a traitor, all of the circum- 
stances of the killing of O'Brien may be made to yield 
to the fact that you shot him, and " 

" And what, my wife ?" 

" And— O Harry!" I could not finish the terri- 
ble sentence." 






THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 59 

"Then I will finish it for you," said he, with the 
faintest shadow of a smile breaking over his sad coun- 
tenance. " And — my husband may be hanged !" 

" Or— O Harry !" 

11 Rachel, you are getting to be a sad coward, little 
woman. You nerves are playing false to you. Cheer 
up ! Or — your husband may find hospitable quarters 
in the state-prison ?" 

" Harry, how can you speak so calmly ?" 

" Because, my wife, T shot a ruffian to save to you a 
husband, and to your children a father. My hands 
are stained with blood, but not my soul. Before God, 
that is as stainless of blood as the soul of an infant. 
Man may convict me of murder, but G-od — never ! 
Man may decree an ignominious death, but the eye of 
God will see in it no shame. Man may condemn me 
to the convict's cell and the association of the vile, the 
lawless, and the degraded — with a conscience void of 
offence, and a firm faith in the mercy of our Redeemer, 
I can smile at the taunts of the world, and my prison 
livery will be dignified into a garb of honor. The evil 
is in the intention, my dear, and not in the act." 

11 But the world usually judges of the intention by 
the act, Harry." 

14 It is not always a proper rule for judging, though 
I grant that to human insight it is the only general rule 
upon which to base conclusions, and we should not 
quarrel that the exceptions are so rarely looked to." 

"Suppose the exception is not admitted in your 
case ?" 

11 We will suppose nothing, my wife, until I am called 
before a jury and confront any witnesses who may pos- 



60 THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 

sess information in the case. See how I am faring ! It 
seems I have some friends, although I am only a poor 
felon I" 

He took me to his bed and showed me a comforta- 
ble pillow that had been sent him by some one un- 
known ; uncovered a dish, in which there were a few 
delicacies not reckoned in the prison fare, a pitcher 
of ice water, and half-a-dozen books — the blessed Bible, 
a bundle of tracts — sweet comforters in hours of an- 
guish and doubt — and a daily paper. " It seem, Ra- 
chel, there are some who sympathize and desire to 
smooth my pathway to the gallows or the penitentiary, 
if they do not believe me guiltless of murder in the 
first degree. But we will not talk of these terrible 
probabilities, my wife. Tell me of my children — of 
my little woman Melissa, of Edna, and of Maude, our 
baby girl.' 7 His face was very bright when he spoke 
of our children, and as I watched the old fatherlv 
pride kindling his eyes, I almost forgot my misery. 

I had a long story to recount of a thousand little 
things they had said and done, but when I tried to 
tell him of their gentleness and care for me, and of 
their terrible anxiety for him, my fortitude gave way 
and the walls of the prison echoed my heart-wrung 
sobs. 

" My poor little wife!" he whispered, while he laid 
my head on his bosom and covered my brow and hair 
with kisses. 

"Stop, Rachel," he said. "We will not talk of 
things that cut to the core. Look above and beyond 
this. I do not think any jury — unless suborned — can 
possibly convict me, and even if they should, I feel 



THE LIFE OB' MY FAMILY. 61 

perfectly willing, with all the evidence before him, to 
rely upon the clemency of the Governor; and if human 
mercy fails, I know I am not afraid to stand before the 
bar of God and answer for the unfortunate death of 
the man I wronged neither by thought, word nor deed." 

I cannot begin to remember all that passed that day 
in the prison, but I cannot forget the lofty courage and 
resolution that bore him above the evil of the hour 
and strengthened me to look for bright days still in the 
future. 

You have doubtless heard that living troubles were 
very much harder to bear than sorrow for the dead. 
If you have never experienced the truth, let me tell 
you. We bury our dead in the hope of a blessed res- 
urrection beyond the grave and a reunion with the 
saints in light ; but a living sorrow dogs our heels like 
an avenging spectre, and hovers over our sleep a night- 
mare so hideous that we fear to sleep lest we dream ; 
and we fear to dream lest the waking spectre confront 
us with all the horrors of a whip of scorpions. 

Mr. La Eue returned with me to Mr. Eveleigh's, 
and when he bade us good-by it was with the expecta- 
tion of removing his residence to some less dangerous 
locality. 

I could not bear to be dependent upon Mr. Eveleigh 
for a home, and told him " if I could get a family to 
go with me, I should return and take possession of Mr. 
La Rue's house." After a day's search Mr. Eveleigh 
succeeded in securing a family to accompany me ; but, 
by some means, Brown heard that I was coming, and 
had La Rue's house torn down to the ground. So there 



62 THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 

was no shelter for me, and I was compelled to forego 
my resolution. 

One would suppose I was telling a border story if 
they did not know differently, and I almost blush 
with shame when I think of the defiance to which the 
law is subjected, despite all of its august majesty. 



THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 68 



CHAPTER XII. 

VENGEANCE UNSATISFIED. 

The revengeful purposes of our enemies did not termi^ 
nate with ray leaving the neighborhood. I was followed 
up with most fiendish malice. 

The reader will seem surprised at this, and well he 
may, but if he could begin to imagine the recklessness 
and contempt of public opinion that exists in these re- 
mote communities, he could more readily realize the 
truthfulness of my story. 

I had been at Mr. Eveleigh's about a week, when, 
one afternoon, he was called from home on business of 
importance, and did not expect to return before mid- 
night. It was very necessary to be careful. There 
were sometimes lawless characters prowling around 
who would not hesitate to make the entry of houses 
for the intent of plunder when a suitable opportunity 
presented itself. It was scarcely safe for women to be 
left alone after nightfall. 

Before it grew dark, on the evening in question, 
Mrs. Eveleigh locked the doors securely and I put the 
children to bed. Innocent little creatures, they knelt 
by my knees and prayed that God would take care of 
us all at Mr. Eveleigh's and bring him home safely be- 
fore twelve o'clock, and that He would comfort and 
cheer their poor father in jail. 

"Do you think, mamma," said Maude, "that God 
can see dear papa through the thick jail walls?" 



64 TfiE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 

"Yes, my little dear, he can see your poor dear 
papa as plainly through the thick jail walls as in the 
open air." 

"God is so good, mamma!" said the child. • 

"Yes, He is all-wise, powerful, and good." 
"Then He will set our dear papa free, and send us 
all home again ?" 

"If it is right, my child." 

"But it will be right, mamma! You know it will 
be right, and God will think so too !" 

"Hush, my daughter, you must not talk so. It is 
very wicked, God knows what is best for us, and we 
must patiently abide his will, it matters not what it 
maybe." 

Edna drew up close by my side and looking around, 
into my eyes — her own opened wide — "Mamma," she 
said, "if it is God's will to let our poor papa be hung 
will you think it is right ?" 

"I will try to think so, my daughter." 
"But, mamma, you know he is a good man." 
" Yes, I believe he is a purely good man." 
" Then I do not think God would do right to let him 
be hanged," said the little girl indignantly. 

" If God sees it will be for the best, it will be 
right." 

The children looked at me very strangely. They 
could not understand the full resignation of will to 
the will of God ; and who does ? 

Our faith often proves exceedingly feeble when it 
calls for the sacrifice of some cherished purpose or ob- 
ject, and we shirk its requirements with a sad coward- 
ice. 



THE LIFE OF MY FAMTLY. 65 

"Mamma, do you think we must pray stronger?" 
said Maude, feeling that the strength of her supplica- 
tions would indicate the measure of her faith. 

"Yes, ni}' child, you must pray with so much fervor 
that yon will not let God go without the promise of a 
blessing. You remember old Jacob, do you not?" said 
I, pointing to my Bible. 

"Yes," exclaimed the children, as they retired with 
a prayer upon their lips. 

Mrs. Eveleigh and myself did not retire as early as 
usual, but sat up talking and reading until the clock 
struck ten. 

(For you must remember that we observed very 
primitive and rational customs, and went to bed "with 
the lamb to rise with the lark.") 

Mrs. Eveleigh gave a little start of surprise and said : 
" Dear me ! It is ten o'clock ! We must to bed ! I 
had no idea it was so late !" 

We then knelt in prayer — asking the Lord to watch 
over and keep us from all dangers and perils of the 
night ; " but," we prayed, " if it is thy holy will, God, 
that it should be otherwise — that trouble should come 
to us in the darkness, Lord, guide and direct us how 
to act and what to say, for Jesus Christ's sake ! Amen !" 

On the whole it was a strange prayer. Did I have 
a premonition of evil that induced its peculiar phrase- 
ology? I think not. I never in my life experienced 
a sense of more perfect security. The night was still. 
The stars were shining brightly, and all nature invited 
to healthy repose. 

After an interchange of good wishes, we retired to 
bed. I soon fell asleep, and slept soundly for, per- 



(3 6 TMB LIFE OF Mt FAMILY. 

haps, an hour. About half-past eleven o'clock I was 
awakened by a great noise outside of the house and 
an uproarious thumping at the door. The whole house 
was shaken ! 

I jumped from my bed and ran to the window to 
look out. Then, as fast as my limbs would carry me, 
I ran into Mrs. Eveleigh's room. She was already sit- 
ting up in bed — looking very much frightened. 

" What on earth can be the matter, Rachel?" she 
cried. "The noise I heard just now was enough to 
shake the house to its very foundation. " 

"There are three or four men at the door!" I ex- 
claimed in a whisper. 

"What do they want?" 

"They want me, T suspect !" 

" What can they wish of you ?' 

"They wish to kill me!" 

" To kill you ? You are crazy !" 

" Well, you will see !" I replied calmly. 

" Go to bed, Rachel. They are doubtless some 
travellers that have come along and wish shelter for 
the night. Go to bed, and I will get up and see them." 

" For Heaven's sake, Mrs. Eveleigh !" I cried, " do 
not expose yourself! My fears tell me I am correct. 
I will see them. You shall not expose yourself to 
their insults and their violence !" 

Before she could hinder me, I had snatched up the 
gun that stood in the corner, to defend myself if nec- 
essary, and very nearly behind the door. 

Mrs. Eveleigh was up and by my side. She whis- 
pered : "Rachel, the gun is loaded! Shoot if you 
are driven to it !" 






THE LTFE OF MY FAMILY. 67 

I was strong then. Not a nerve quivered. I felt a 
perfect recklessness of death and danger. We had no 
time to confer longer. There was an awful crash ! 
The door fell from its hinges! Mrs. Eveleigh uttered 
a piercing scream and fell senseless at my feet ! 

I raised the gun ! The men laughed derisively and 
said : "So you really think to frighten us away, my 
pretty woman ?" 

" What is the meaning of this midnight intrusion?" 
I asked, without the slightest tremor in my voice. 

"Ha! ha!" mockingly laughed one. "What is 
the meaning of this midnight intrusion? She makes 
use of very grand language. It's as good as a play. 
We mean to have you!" 

" Me !" 

"Yes, you! and no one else. Do you know me?" 

Alas! I did know him, and only too well. His eyes 
gleamed out with tiger-like ferocity beneath the brim 
of his hat. 

"lam the son of O'Brien. The man murdered by 
your husband, and Harry Watson's wife shall suffer for 
Harry Watson's crime." 

For a single moment I trembled and lost my self- 
command, then, in a voice that was fearfully husky in 
its earnestness, I said: "Harry Watson is no mur- 
derer, and his wife has no fear of his false accusers." 

" Then she shall fear !" exclaimed O'Brien, moving 
a step nearer me. 

"Beware!" I cried. "This is no child's play! 
The gun is loaded ! Advance but one step nearer and 
I shall fire on you !" 

" My doom is sealed then !" he said tauntingly. 



68 THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 

"Your doom is sealed !" 

His laugh rang out: " Woman, you are a fool!" 
and made a movement approaching me. 

I pulled the trigger ! 

There was a blinding flash, a deafening report, a 
loud scream ! 

I fell back and leaned against the door facing for 
support. For an instant the shock rendered me in- 
sensible. I thought I had killed him and began to 
tremble. The most terrible sensations seized me. Was 
I, indeed, a murderess ? All justification in self-de- 
fence failed me, and I stood a convicted culprit before 
them. 

When the smoke had cleared away sufficiently for 
me to see, I beheld O'Brien apparently unharmed, and 
joy in my soul filled the place of anguish. But soon 
I discovered blood slowly trickling down his face. 
Then he had been wounded slightly— not killed ! 

Even while I was making this observation, one of 
the men came around behind us — entered the door and 
extinguished the candle-light. We screamed ! We 
were now in total darkness. Hearing the noise my 
little children were aroused from their sleep and came 
weeping and imploring us to tell them w r hat was the 
matter. I could not. In the midst of the confusion I 
felt myself grappled from behind me, and the gun 
wrenched from my grasp. 

I uttered the most piercing screams, when one of 
the ruffians placed his hand over my mouth and dragged 
me from the house amid the cries of Mrs. Eveleigh and 
my little girls. Again I suppose I was insensible, for 
I offered not the slightest resistance. Mrs. Eveleigh 



TftE LIFE OF My family. 69 

pleaded for mercy for me ! They were deaf to all en- 
treaties. I was bound and placed upon a horse, and 
driven rapidly on with the infuriated wretches. 

Their work had been done quickly — almost more 
quickly than I can relate it. 

Mr. Eveleigh did not return until all was over, We 
did not travel far before they halted for consultation. 
I must have been in a sort of stupor, for I felt so inert 
that I could not speak, and did not realize that several 
hours passed in the woods. 

It was quite daybreak when they set forward again, 
and I knew from the direction they took that they pur- 
posed taking me to O'Brien's home. 

Just then I saw a party of men approaching — soon 
discovered they were Indians — and to my delight rec- 
ognized the brave Indian who had rescued Melissa. A 
shout of joy issued from my lips. " Save me!" I cried. 
"Save me from the white man !" 

Could a more direct and effectual appeal have been 
made, to all the feelings of humanity, gallantry, and 
revenge, that stir the soul of an Indian, than this ? 

A loud, exultant yell rang through the forest and 
awoke its slumbering echoes. 

" Save me ! Save me!" I cried. 

"Ugh ! Ugh !" shouted the Indian, as he drew his 
arrow upon -the string and let it fly at the man who 
held the bridle of my horse. 

The man relaxed his grasp upon the bridle, uttered 
a loud imprecation, and fell from the saddle. 

The party consisted of four. They had been sur- 
prised, and before they could make proper resistance 



fO THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 

one of them was killed, one wounded — the two re- 
maining turned and fled. 

As I was then taken from the horse I fainted in the 
Indian's arms. Of the circumstances of my return I 
can tell nothing. When I awoke to consciousness I 
found myself lying on a couch in Mr. Eveleigh's house, 
and Mrs. Eveleigh bending over me and bathing my 
face and head with water. I had a sweet, soothing 
sense of feebleness, as an infant may be supposed to 
have, looking to its nurse or mother to do even the 
work of thinking for it. 

I am sure my eyes must have looked strange ques- 
tions, for Mrs. Eveleigh said : " Eachel, all is right. 
Just go to sleep like a good woman, and don't bother 
about anything." 

She placed her fingers on my wrist. 

"Am I sick?" I asked. 

" A little." 

"What is the matter?" 

"Not much." 

I thought. "Ah! yes, I know now! They took 
me away. I didn't kill him ! No, I didn't kill him ! 
Thank God !" 

" No, poor Rachel, you did not kill him !" 

" Mrs. Eveleigh, that was a terrible night." 

" Yes," she replied quietly. 

" Was it very long ago?" 

"Not very." 

"My children, are they all alive?" 

" All alive." 

I seized her hand and pressed it to my lips. 

" Do not agitate yourself, Rachel. You children are 



THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 71 

well, but you have been very sick. For their sake 
take care of yourself." 

Again ray mind ran over the events I have been fee- 
bry trying to depict to the reader. It seemed like a 
confused dream. I felt as if I were unwinding a maze 
that appeared to have no ending. At length the 
thread began to straighten out, and with a gush of 
grateful emotion, I cried : "The good Indian ! where, 
oh, where is he ? Call him ! He must be around 
here ! He took care of me last night ! Call him ! I 
wish to thank him I" 

She smiled. "He has not been around for several 
days. He has gone. He would scorn thanks for a 
mere act of humanity." 

I sighed : " The second time! He must think me 
as ungrateful as a heathen !" 

"No," said Mrs. Eveleigh, he is of the genuine 
stamp of Nature's nobility. When he sees the need of 
a good action to his fellow-man he performs it, and 
without desiring thanks, takes comfort of his own con- 
science !" 

I had talked so long — with a fervor which enjoined 
silence — Mrs. Eveleigh was about to leave my room, 
when I beckoned her to me. "Have you heard from 
Harry ?" 

" Mr. La Rue called here yesterday on his way 
from a visit to him. He is well and in very cheerful 
spirits, except from anxiety for you." 

"Then he knows all?" ' 

"Yes, he knows all !" 

My little Edna just then peeped in at the door. At 
sight of her the pent-up agony of my soul burst 



72 THE LTFE OF MY FAMILY. 

forth. I folded my hands across my eyes and I felt 
the hot tears gush out as the unloosened waters of a 
dyke. il Come to me ! Oh, come to me ! my chil- 
dren I" I gently implored. . 

They rushed in and I folded them in my tired arms, 
as a hen would shield her storm-beaten brood. It is a 
wonder I did not die ! For many days after the fever 
was broken I lay helpless as an infant. 

I had almost daily news from my husband. He con- 
tinued well, and I felt the necessity of garnering my 
little awakening strength to take me to his side once 
more. 

Oh ! the holy love of a wife ! It is no sham, but a 
living * reality ! The very breath and essence with 
motherhood of the felicity of Eden ; and this, when 
true, is always purified in suffering, as gold is in the 
chemist's crucible. 






THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 73 



CHAPTER XIII. 

A GHOST PLEADS FOR FORGIVENESS. 

My convalescence was rapid — accelerated, I have no 
doubt, by ray determination to be well enough to be 
again with my husband 

As soon as I was strong enough to make the trip, 
and some days before my friends would have permit- 
ted it, had I awaited their judgment of my ability, I 
took my children and wended my way to Harry's prison. 

Notwithstanding his cheerfulness, he was pale, and 
there was that in his expression which told of the 
heavy inroads of anxiety upon his constitution. When 
he saw me he folded me in his arms and whispered : 
" My poor bruised, suffering Avife !" 

I laughed through my tears. I did not intend to 
weep, but physical weakness had impaired the strength 
of my mind, and despite all my resolves to be brave, 
my feelings when I saw him would not be restrained. 
In reference to his conviction for murder, he seemed 
even more doubtful than at first. Public sympathy had 
been manifested towards him in the most demonstra- 
tive manner ; and feeling certain, if no false witnesses 
were found to testify against him, that no jury could 
fail to acquit him, he had little fear of the results oi 
his trial. The danger was in suborned testimony . He 
was perfectly acquainted with the malice of Brown and 
the vindictiveness of the O'Briens, and did entertain 



74 THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 

some anxiety lest his life or his freedom might be 
sold for their purposes. We frequently visited him 
and combated this fear. He sometimes seemed over- 
burdened with something that he would strive to 
shake off, but when I questioned him he would 
waive satisfactory replies to me and say : " Rachel, 
it is nothing I" 

"Tell me, Harry, I implore you, what it is that 
troubles you," I one day said to him after he had 
kissed and petted our children, and had sent them to 
play with the jailor's children. 

" Rachel,' 7 said he, " I am afraid I am getting super- 
stitious." 

"Nonsense! Harry," I exclaimed, laughing at the 
ambiguous expression on his countenance. 

* ' Do you believe in apparitions ?" 

I could not answer him candidly, for since the singu- 
lar warning I had had before the death of my little 
boys, I have not been prepared to say that I could 
admit no such idea. 

"Has an apparition appeared to you ?" I asked — waiv- 
ing a reply to his question. 

" There has," he said firmly. 

" Perhaps you dreamed. Harry. Some dreams are 
so vivid as to deceive us into the belief that we have 
actually passed through the experiences that charac- 
terize our dreams." 

"I am perfectly aware of that, Rachel. But I did 
not dream, Rachel. I saw and felt and heard." 

" We see and feel and hear in dreams, Harry. 
There are none of the senses that are not subject to 
waking sensations in dreams." 



THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 75 

" Well," said he gloomily, "I should be very sorry 
to think it nothing more than a dream, for through life 
it must be a fountain of such comfort to me as I can se- 
cure from no other source ; not even from the testimo- 
ny of my own conscience that the unfortunate deed for 
which I am imprisoned was committed purely in self- 
defence. Do not tell me it was only a dream !" he 
cried, pacing the floor of his cell, and clasping his 
forehead with his right hand. 

"Well, Harry, I shall not !" I exclaimed. "Tell 
me what it is, and let me decide." 

I must confess that I rather dreaded the revelation, 
for I am by no means inclined to indulge faith in the 
supernatural, and very charily approach the bounda- 
ries of the mystical and the unknown. 

"My regret," he commenced, " that I was forced to 
kill O'Brien, had become so enormous that, like a 
mighty mountain, it seemed crushing the spirit out of 
me, and the cheerfulness that you noticed in me was 
at best the reaction of gloom that I experienced when 
alone. This," he continued, " preyed upon me until I 
was well nigh robbed of all sleep. I would turn and 
toss upon my bed until, from sheer exhaustion, I would 
fall into a stupor that hardly seemed slumber. 

" 'Are there any ghosts about this establishment V I 
said to the jailor one morning when he came up with 
my breakfast 

" 'Ghosts? 7 echoed the jailor. 'Well, I can't tell. 
I have never seen any, but they do say there be such 
things hereabouts, and p'raps everybody's eyes weren't 
made to see such things. My wife tells me so, and 
says as she and her mother, when she comes to spend 

6 



76 THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 

the night with us, have seen some most oncommon 
sights. You know there have been several men hung 
in this jail-yard, and one cut his throat in this very 
cell. Sometimes my wife and my old mother-in-law 
see very strange sights ; but I don't know, I guess 
when a body's dead and buried he's not apt to come 
back fast.' 

" 'And you've never seen ghosts yourself? 

" 'Never in my life, sir. But I kind o' think if I 
was to see one I should speak him and find out whether 
he was not flesh and blood.' 

11 'You would speak him, would you?' I said. 

" 'Yes, sir. But why? why? Have you seen any- 
thing ?' 

" ' No matter,' I replied. But I determined to speak 
to my ghost the next time he made his appearance. 
That night he did not return as usual, for, indeed, I 
got to sleep much earlier, and then I dreamed, Rachel. 
I dreamed I saw you pinioned and dragged out of our 
house by four men, and carried away from me into a for- 
est that was interminable. Out of this dream I awa- 
kened myself with a shuddering shriek and felt all you 
endured, my wife, from your brutal captors." 

I listened to his story with staring eyes, in perfect 
wonder at the intercommunion of spirits here on earth. 

He noticed my astonishment and said: "Rachel, 
you are not strong enough yet to listen to such vaga- 
ries." 

" G-o on! Harry," said I. "I am only a little ner- 
vous, and I should never be quiet again unless I could 
hear the end of your story." 

" There was no more sleep for me that night. No 



THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 77 

ghost was needed to set my nerves to thrilling so fear- 
fully that sleep fled my eyelids. I rather wished he 
would come, or anything that could drive my terrible 
dream from memory. During the following afternoon 
Mr. Eveleigh came over to see me and told the reality 
of my dream. He said he left you delirious, and the 
doubt was whether you would ever recover. Poor lit- 
tle woman ! Life has been over a rough path with me, 
has it not?" 

" There have been some very rough places, my hus- 
band," I replied, " but the smooth ones have been 
more frequent than the rough, and love has sweetened 
every cup that has been pressed to my lips." 

He bent over and kissed me. " Yes, Rachel, love 
can even brighten the gloom of prison walls." 

" Your ghost, Harr}', what of him?" 

"Well, the next night he came ; but not until I had 
been refreshed with healthful slumber, and my senses 
were all intensely awake. My cell was in total dark- 
ness. Suddenly in the middle of the room a small 
white light blazed up — continuing until the whole 
apartment was thoroughly illuminated. I could have 
seen to read the finest print. Then there was a 
sound as of a rush of wind, that seemed to whirl 
something around, and there stood O'Brien — his face 
beaming kindly upon me, though his body was covered 
with blood. As I have stated, this apparition had ap- 
peared to me three nights before that time. I arose, 
and, standing upon my feet a few paces back : ' In 
the name of God V I cried, ' speak and tell what you 
want. Can you not rest peacefully in your grave ? 
Why do you come back to torment me V 



78 THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 

"Slowly the spectre raised his right hand and point- 
ing towards heaven, said : ' We are commanded to 
forgive one another !' 

" ' Yes, so the Bible tells us.' 

" 'You will then forgive me?' 

" ' Yes, poor O'Brien, I do forgive you as I hope to 
be forgiven.' " 

I clasped Harry's hand while he spoke and trembled 
so that I could not speak. " Be quiet," he said. " Al- 
most as soon as it had spoken these words the spectre 
disappeared. It did not fade away. It did not fall — 
but in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, like a 
flash of powder it went out, and my cell was again in 
darkness ! I got up and groped my way over my room. 
I could find nothing but the chair upon which my 
clothes hung, the table upon which my Bible lay, and 
the pitcher from which I drank. I looked through the 
grating of my window. The night was almost of inky 
blackness. The sky was overhung with clouds, through 
which dimly peeped forth — here and there — a flicker- 
ing star, serving to render the blackness blacker still, 
for their little light. 

"I lay down and covered my head with the counter- 
pane, when a voice sounded in my ears : ' Fear not.' 
I looked up and around and felt the fanning as of gen- 
tle wings, that soon soothed me to sleep. 

"The jailor was rapping at my door the next morn- 
ing before I awoke. I got up and hastily prepared to 
take my breakfast. He had a pot of strong coffee. 

" ' You seem bright this morning, Watson,' he 
said. 

"'Yes.' 



THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 79 

" ' Did you sleep well ?' 

" 'Yes.' 

' He walked around as if he wished me to ask him 
some question. 

" 'Did you sleep well ?' I inquired. 

" ' So, so. My wife was disturbed. 7 

"'Ah! By what V 

" ' Well, by a bloody ghost.' 

" ' A bloody ghosl ?' 

' ' Yes. Not like any she ever saw before. 

11 ' Indeed ! Did she speak the ghost V 

" ' Well, I guess she did, from what she told me.' 

" ' What did she say to the ghost?' 

" 'In the name of God, what do you want?' she 
said. 

" ' Did the ghost make any reply to her ?' 

" 'He did not at the time, but seemed to fly away 
in a gust of wind, and then came a voice to her in a 
whisper : " I am forgiven ! I am forgiven! I shan't 
come back any more ! I can now sleep in peace." ' 

" ' Are you sure your wife told you this ?' I cried. 

" ' Here she comes now ; she can speak for herself.' 

" The jailor's wife came in and related the story just 
as her husband had told it. She looked at me curi- 
ously, but I carefully guarded the secret, and deter- 
mined I would first reveal my vision to you." 

" What do you think of it, Harry ?" I asked. 

" I hardly know what to say, Rachel. But if I ever 
saw O'Brien in the flesh, I saw him in the spirit." 

" Have you been disturbed since then?" 

"Never. I have slept as soundly as if I were at 
home in our ruined cottage. I may be a little pale, 



80 THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 

but it is only the pallor of confinement. I am ex- 
tremely comfortable for a man under indictment for — 
for " 

"Don't say for what, Harry." I .saw the muscles 
of his face quiver, and I knew what a trial it was to 
him to use any term that explained his misfortune, 
whether "murder" or the apologj r conveyed in the 
word "manslaughter." "But of this vision, Harry, 
tell me if you can assign any cause for it." 

"Rachel, if it had been manifest only to the sense 
of sight, I should say it resulted from an excited con- 
dition of the brain, wrought into feverish imaginings, 
but when I remember so perfectly what the spectre 
said, and when the story of the jailor's wife so nearly 
corresponds, I am totally at a loss to account for it. 
Perhaps ' magnetic sympathy 1 may be a term to use 
in explanation, but men of science must explain the 
phenomenon, I cannot." 

I must confess my heart felt much lightened after 
this visit to Harry, although, as the time set for his 
trial approached, in spite of my confidence of the inno- 
cence of his intent, 1 shuddered to think of what influ- 
ences might be brought to bear against him, what quib- 
bles might be resorted to, to convict him of wilful crime. 

The despoiler of our home, the incendiary of our 
cottage, walked the earth abroad in defiance of law ; 
what right had I to look to justice ? He read my coun- 
tenance as he would a book, and, taking my hand, said 
to me : " In the day of my trouble I sought the 
Lord." 

The sun was declining over the western hills before 
I took leave of him. The children kept up a merry 



THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 81 

prattle on the way, and spoke as confidently of the 
time when "papa should come home," as if there pended 
not over him the possibility that it might be long, if 
ever, before we should again greet him by the fire- 
side. My homeward journey was spent in prayer. 

In one of my journeys to the prison, I was almost 
bereft of my reason, by the narrow escape from a hor- 
rible death experienced by my little Edna. The 
thoughts of my children were so occupied for their 
father, that they seemed to forget themselves, except 
as a part of him. In no other way can I account for 
the absence of mind which threw my little girl on the 
track of the railroad just at the depot. She did not 
seem to hear the whistle. Fortunately the engineer 
saw her in time to retard the motion of the train, when 
like a little dreamer, she emerged, unhurt, on the 
opposite side of the track, the cars being just upon 
her heels. 

The conductor had leaped from the platform, and 
evidences of danger seizing upon the passengers, they 
poured out from the cars and soon surrounded the now 
frightened child. She could scarcely realize her situa- 
tion. "In the name of God ! Mrs. Watson, why 
do you not take better care of your children ?" cried 
the conductor. 

What could I say ? In truth I had no answer for 
him ; for I did not know where Edna was. "I would 
not have that little girl run such another risk for my 
whole train !" said the kind-hearted man. 

By this time, the child experienced a revulsion of 
feeling, and was crying bitterly. The passengers pet- 
ted and comforted her ; told her that nothing was the 



82 THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 

matter, but something might be next time, and to keep 
sharp eyes and ears not to be in the way. 

u I didn't see ! I didn't hear !" cried the child. " But 
you must see and you must hear," said the conductor, 
kindly, shaking her hand and leaping back on the 
platform. 

I took her up in my arms and kissed away the bright 
tears that hung upon her cheeks. Oh ! the incompre- 
hensible tenderness of a mother's love! and yet at that 
moment, so overwhelmed was I in misery and misfor- 
tune, that I should almost have blessed the Providence 
which might have snatched one of my treasured chil- 
dren from a similar fate. It was very sinful, but a great, 
good and wise Father will be very merciful to such 
transgressions. He knows and pities our weaknesses, 
and if sometimes we faint, or rebel against the burdens 
of life, our punishment will be estimated by the fee- 
bleness of humanity. 

This near approach to a casualty was a useful lesson 
to Edna and her little sisters. Since then they have 
kept sharp eyes and ears for cars, and are mindful not 
to saunter on railroad tracks. 




THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 83 



CHAPTER XIV. 

harry's trial and acquittal. 

At length the time for my husband's trial arrived. 
I found it impossible to keep away from the scene. 
Committing my children to the care of Mrs. Eveleigh, 
I accompanied Mr. Eveleigh to the court. 

At first the judge refused me admittance, but after 
much persuasion and a promise from me that I would 
control my emotions — it mattered not how much they 
cried for the mastery — he consented that I should be 
allowed an obscure seat in the court-house. 

The building was crowded. There were eager ex- 
cited faces that everywhere met my gaze. I turned 
from them all with a sickened sensation, and drew a 
veil closely over my features, to avoid the rude stare 
which some bestowed on " Watson's wife." 

I felt a shriek tearing my breast when the constable 
brought in my husband, but I suppressed it, and stifled 
even the sobs that I feared would choke me, so terribly 
did they struggle for utterance. 

Harry was very pale, but his eye was steady and 
his step firm. I did not withdraw my gaze from him 
for a single moment. The case was formally opened, 
the indictment read, and the sheriff impanelled the 
jury. There was no change in Harry's countenance 
until he rose and claimed the privilege of objecting to 
a member of the jury. A hot blush then suffused his 



84 THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 

cheeks, and I noticed his eyes flash with indignation. 
At this demonstration on his part, there grew up an 
excited argument which finally resulted in the re- 
fusal of the objectionable party, and the swearing in of 
another. The cause of Harry's objection was, his pos- 
itive knowledge of the bribery of this man, and he 
determined that justice single-handed should be meted 
out to him, let the consequences be what they might. 

Then came the qualification of the witnesses. 

O'Brien's two sons and his daughter appeared and 
took the required oath. They were the principal wit- 
nesses on the side of the prosecution. There was a 
look of fierce exultation on their countenances when 
they placed the Bible to their lips and swore to "tell 
the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth," 

The most prominent witness for the defence was John 
La Eue. His life had been threatened if he dared to 
make his appearance, but despite all warnings he was 
in place and ready to testify to all in his knowledge 
of the deed of blood. There were various others 
sworn in, but their evidence was considered only ac- 
cessory to the main testimon} r in the case. 

For more than two days the examination of witnesses 
continued. Various intangible points of law were 
brought up, intricate technicalities were brought to bear, 
pitiful quibbles were introduced by the prosecuting 
attorney — a young ''limb of the law," who fancied 
he could build up a reputation quite equal to Rufus 
Choate, in his vindication of the majesty of justice, and 
my heart almost sank within me at times, when I watched 
the effect upon the feelings of the jury. 

But my husband's counsel was astute and sagacious, 



THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 85 

and in the cross-examination so perfectly entangled 
O'Brien's witnesses, that but for fear of injury to his 
case, he would have demanded that their testimony be 
set aside, so unreliable and full of discrepancies. During 
all this time Harry was calm — now and then suggest- 
ing a question to his attorney, and chiefly to expose 
Brown's complicity in the outrage upon his house. 

The argument was long and tedious. It involved 
the question of our right to the property, and the va- 
lidity or invalidity of the state-deed. We were de- 
nominated " squatters," " beavers," and tl ground rats," 
and various opprobrious epithets were heaped upon us, 
to convince the jury that we were public nuisances. 
The summing up of the testimony called for elaborate 
speeches on each side, and when finished I trembled ; 
for no one can calculate upon the effect of false argu- 
ments upon the human mind. Sophistry may be clad in 
such attractive cunning as to wear the semblance of truth. 

The judge was a stern man. but one who had great 
humanity, and in his charge to the jury he bade them 
be careful ; if any doubt of the guilt of the prisoner 
appeared to them, to give the prisoner the benefit of the 
doubt. With this injunction the jury retired, having 
my husband's life in their hands. It was a period of 
awful suspense to me. For more than twenty-four 
hours they were in consultation, and finally returned a 
verdict that Harry Watson killed O'Brien in defence 
of his life, his family, and his home ! therefore, Not 
guilty ! At this, a loud cheer rang through the court- 
room, despite the presence of his " honor," and Harry's 
hand was shaken by more than a score of friends in 
little more than a minute. 



86 THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 

In the midst of the excitement I swooned, and when 
I regained my senses, I was being borne out by several 
gentlemen, who wept over me like children, and at the 
same time, laughed through their tears. Harry was 
literally carried out on the shoulders of his friends. 
There was not a dry eye to be seen, except those in 
his own head. He wore an expression of profound 
gratitude, but not of exultation ; and hastening away 
we were soon on the route to Mr. Eveleigh's, where 
our little girls awaited us in trembling anxiety. 

Poor little things, their hearts were filled with dread, 
notwithstanding their prayers and faith, and when they 
saw me bringing their father home, they ran to meet 
us, frantic with joy. Harry took them all in his arms, 
and the fortitude that had so long sustained him, then 
gave way. He clasped them to his bosom, while the 
deep emotions of his nature overflowed, and their brown 
locks were thickly besprinkled with his tears. 

Oh ! it was a scene over which the angels must have 
wept in sympathy. The tension of his nerves relaxed, 
he was almost as much a child as little Maude who was 
borne in his arms to the house. 

After a silent pressure of the hand, and congratu- 
lation expressed only in the beaming of their eyes, 
Mr. and Mrs. Eveleigh did-not intrude upon the joyful 
reunion of our little family. 

We retired to our room, and kneeling in deep hu- 
mility before God, offered up to him the sacrifice of 
praise and thanksgiving, for his great mercy and 
his divine deliverance. 

We felt as if a mighty load had been rolled from our 
hearts, and purified and strengthened in the furnace of 






THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 87 

affliction, we buckled fresh sandals upon our feet, and 
calmly contemplated the remainder of life's journey. 
Satisfied that we were not able to judge of the designs 
of Providence by " feeble sense," we laid our burdens 
upon him, and trusting to his grace to guide us, went 
on as the children of Israel behind the pillar of fire, in 
the night-time. 



88 THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 



CHAPTER XY. 

ADRIFT ANCHOR IN GEORGETOWN. 

Free once more, Harry was forced to bethink him- 
self of how and where to settle. It was a question of 
momentous importance. We could not trespass longer 
upon the generosity of Mr. Eveleigh. The morning 
after his release, as if almost afraid to make such a 
proposition to me, he whispered, " Rachel, my heart 
yearns very lovingly over that little wilderness home 
of ours." 

"What would }^ou propose, Harry? 77 

" That we go back and see in what condition it is. 77 

"You will find only a blackened heap of ruins. 77 

" But the corn in our garden must be ripe by this 
time, and the peaches upon the trees we planted when 
first we planted there a happy family ; and the pears 
on the tree near the chimney, and the wild roses bloom, 
even though you are not there, my wife, to enjoy their 
fragrance. 77 

"And you would like once to look upon the spot 
upon which we burrowed like ground-rats?' 7 

" Yes, Rachel. 77 

" Then we will go. 77 

" You are mad! 77 exclaimed Mr. Eveleigh, when we 
made known to him our intention. 

"No, my friend, 77 said Harry, "we are only going 
to behold the flowers abloom and the fruit ripened over 
the grave of buried hopes. 77 

"It is all very romantic, but rather nonsensical to 



THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 89 

talk of such a thing," said Mr. Eveleigh, in the most 
practical manner. 

" Well," said Harry, " we have been driven into ro- 
mance in spite of ourselves, and should like to carry it 
cut a little farther." 

"Suppose you are both brought back with a load of 
buckshot iu your bodies?" 

11 We have no fear of that." 

" There is no telling the depth of Brown's malice 
and jealousy." 

" I do not fear him, though his revenge may be more 
deadly than that of Cain." 

"Then if you will go, the risks must be upon your 
own head. I feel that I have enacted the watchman, 
and have nothing more to say." 

Like a pair of pilgrims we journeyed back through 
the woods to the remains of our early retreat. When 
we arrived in sight I lifted up my voice and wept 
There was not even the fence around our garden left 
standing, and the tall rank weeds raised their heads 
above the ripening corn, and hid from sight the wild 
roses that clambered over the little rustic bower. Across 
the way a few logs alone gave evidence of the former 
dwelling-place of our good neighbor, John La Rue, and 
desolation sat, a very queen of terrors, over the little 
settlement in the wilderness. 

"Do you wish to return here and rebuild, Harry?" 
I asked, almost breathlessly awaiting a reply. 

" Does my wife wish to come back?" He looked at 
me inquiringly. 

" No, Harry. I am satisfied. I would not come back 
to nurse the memory of so many troubles. " 



90 THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 

"It is well," he answered, "but whither shall we 
wander ?" 

11 Let Providence decide." 

Hand in hand we visited the spring, the old stables, 
and the maples, and then we took a last farewell of the 
wilderness home. We were a sad pair as we wandered 
back to the hospitable shelter of our friend. A sad, 
sad pair ! What we were to do, where to go, we knew 
not. Few words were spoken on the way, but unuttered 
prayer floated up on the evening breeze and found lodg- 
ment in the ear of the All-Father. 

When we got back to Mr. Eveleigh's, we found a 
letter from my brother-in-law in Georgetown, desiring 
us to come and make a home with him. To accept 
this invitation was a sad trial to Harm's independence, 
but no other alternative presenting itself, he accepted 
it as a provision of the Almighty. My brother's home 
was in the village of Georgetown, and there we made 
our way with the little all that remained to us. 

Since then ten years have passed. They have not 
been uneventful years, but compared with the experi- 
ences of those of my story, they seem tame and un- 
exciting. 

Life there opened before us strikingly different 
phases. The education of our daughters absorbed the 
most of our thoughts, while Harry eked out a support 
in the best manner he could. Often we were placed in 
the most trying straits, but in every extremity we 
were granted strength in proportion, My brother-in- 
law was kind to a fault, but the sense of a measure of 
dependence upon him often galled my pride most 
bitterly. 






THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 91 

As my daughters grew up, this they too felt, and 
determined as soon as possible, to relieve him of the 
additional burden to his responsibilities presented in 
them. 

It has not been quite a year since a precious treas- 
ure was demanded of me, which I was forced to yield. 
The hand of my eldest daughter Melissa was asked in 
marriage. 

At first, as to every mother, it seemed like a ruth- 
less invasion of our most sacred rights, and I turned 
from it with a feeling of anguish that almost over- 
powered me. In review I ran over her young life, all 
that she had been to me in my brighter and my dark- 
er hours, and my mother's heart gathered itself around 
her and refused to give her up. I turned to my hus- 
band for relief. 

"You were young once yourself, Rachel," he said, 
" and one asked you to make him happy. Have you 
any right to be selfish now, and refuse to another what 
I so eagerly sought at your father's hands ? 

"But Harry—" 

"But what?" 

" It did not seem so hard then." 

" Because you stood in a different relation?" 

" Then you shall resolve my doubt." 

" Rachel, the human heart demands love, as the 
flowers the dew ; as the parched earth, the cool and 
refreshing rain ; as the day the light ; as the night the 
stars. Blight not the young heart of our child by 
withholding from it the nourishment needful, but rather 
bless her with your approval." At that Melissa and 
were called in from an adjoining room. Harry 



92 THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 

took her little hand and laid it in his. " In darkness 
and in sorrow she has been ours, to cheer, to comfort 
and sustain ; now to thee we yield her, to perform like 
offices — if, in the providence of God, dark days should 
ever come to you, and if not, to double your joys ; to 
lift from your shoulders even the shadow of care ; to 
be to you a faithful companion and a help-meet." 

There were tears of thankfulness in a pair of eyes 
that were shining upon us ; thankfulness that could 
find no expression but in the silent grasp of the hand, 
and Melissa, our first-born, went forth, betrothed. 

Last Christmas she was called for. We had a quiet 
wedding, and very lonely seemed the home-circle 
after she had been called away. We missed her as we 
miss the sunshine when a light cloud crosses the sun's 
disk, and a shadow steals over the lonely chamber. The 
flowers of love have clustered thickly upon her path- 
way, and in her happiness she is blending useful 
domestic virtues. She is a crown of joy to her hus- 
band, and in him she finds a well-spring of comfort. 
With her prospective lot in life, I can but be satisfied. 

My chief cares now centre around my two remaining 
daughters. Theirs is a portion of poverty. They en- 
deavor to exercise the most beautiful contentment, for 
honest poverty enriches its possessor, far more than 
ill-gotten wealth. Their uncle is the very soul of 
kindness, but longer dependence upon him begins to 
look like a dire imposition ; and they feel it more 
deeply every day. Edna and Maude are ambitious to 
earn a livelihood. The province for female endeavor 
seems constricted and ungenerous, and beset with 
snares and temptations on every side. 



THE LIFE OF MY FAMILY. 93 

I have nothing to leave my children but this record 
of our family histoiy. This I have written and give to 
my daughters, Edna and Maude, as a precious legacy. 

If there are those who like the real and the actual 
better than the imaginative, and who may prefer the 
truth " stranger than fiction," to the fiction which mu- 
tilates and demoralizes the finer sensibilities of the 
human heart, they will not reject my narrative. 

Before a generous and appreciative public I dare to 
lay it ; simply asking sympathy for those who may 
buffet the winds and waves of adversity, and perhaps 
a tear for the unfortunate. It is a correct history of 
my family life, with which my daughters will travel 
and sell. 



THE END. 



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